


Princess of the Underworld

by lunarsugar



Category: Midnight Poppy Land (Webcomic)
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 62,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28079277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarsugar/pseuds/lunarsugar
Summary: Poppylan Wilkes is forced to go to Narin City when news of her involvement with a dangerous and controversial organization jeopardizes her family’s name.
Relationships: Tora & Poppy Wilkes, Tora/Poppy Wilkes
Comments: 152
Kudos: 93





	1. A New Arrival

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MPL 18+ Patreon Chat Family](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=MPL+18%2B+Patreon+Chat+Family).



> I know. I know.
> 
> I didn’t finish Dangerous Liaisons. I may go back to it. I may not. I don’t know, but hey. Here’s a new one for now. Who knows where this one will go? But when inspiration hits, it’s hits.

1

“You’re telling me there’s a record out there of my daughter’s involvement with the Magianellis?” The Don’s voice was calm and collected as he sat at his heavy oak desk. A haze of cigar smoke and the potent stench of bourbon lingered in the air as the two men sitting in front of the Don adjusted their ties uncomfortably, clearly aware of the dire situation they were in.

Poppy felt her knees shaking as she held on to her father’s tall, leather office chair for support, trying not to let the underlings know she was terrified of what this could mean for her much less of what her father might do to her if he found out it was true.

“Sir,” one of the two men spoke, trying to project a calm, collected appearance, “I have all of our best men on this issue right now. We’ll recover the flash drive.”

The Don stared at the man who spoke for a good long minute, his bushy eyebrows rising up in a bemused expression, a scoff escaping his lips. He ground his cigar into the crystal ash tray on his desk.

“How did it get out in the first place?” He was losing his patience. The Don didn’t want empty promises, he wanted concrete evidence and successful actions, and each little detail he had to pry for was one less thread of composure he maintained before he would completely snap.

“A rat.” The second man simply stated. Poppy tapped her freshly manicured black coffin nails uncomfortably on her father’s chair, regretting the tightness of her well tailored black blazer against her body and the weight of her golden Gucci chandelier earrings pulling at her lobes.

The second man was sweating profusely, adjusting his collar. Poppy narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms. She walked around her father’s chair, red soles sky high heels clicking on the floor, her father’s eyes following her around the desk. She leaned casually on the desk, smoothing out her tight black skirt, and scrutinizing the second man. 

“What’s your name?” She asked the second man, holding his eye contact.

“Massimo.” The man answered. Poppy nodded thoughtfully.

“You seem nervous, Massimo. You’re sweating like a fucking pig.” Poppy pointed out. She saw Massimo’s breathing increase as he nodded jerkily.

“I know who the rat is.” Massimo whined, close to a nervous breakdown.

“And how do you know who he is? Hmm?” Poppy pressed gently. Massimo’s eyes began to tear up as he shook his head, his breathing now audible.

“It’s because you helped him, isn’t it?” Poppy sounded sympathetic as she spoke to him. Massimo nodded, a sob escaping his lips. Poppy pushed away from the desk, pacing the room.

“And—where is the flash drive now?” Poppy pressed gently.

“N—Narin City.” Massimo stammered, reduced to a blubbering mess of a man.

“Japan.” Poppy smiled. She turned toward Massimo, pleasantly leaning against her father’s desk, completely at ease. “You know, I’ve always wanted to go to Japan. Their culture—well, it just fascinates me. Particularly, their underground culture.”

Poppy stared up to the sky in thought, and she reached in between her breasts, pulling out a silver and mother of pearl switchblade, studying it for a moment.

“Fun fact: when someone in the Yakuza does something disrespectful, and they want to formally apologize, do you know what they do?” Poppy asked. The second man shook his head, and Poppy leaned in. “To prove their loyalty, they sever the pinky finger with a knife and present it to the honorable person they wish to apologize to.”

Massimo’s eyes widened.

“Oh, but I wouldn’t do that to you.” Poppy smiled, clasping his shoulder comfortingly. “That practice is so out of date it’s ridiculous.” 

She leaned back on the desk, Massimo sighing in relief.

“So what will you sever?” Poppy asked, studying the knife.

“W— what?” Massimo stammered.

“Obviously I’m going to have to head to Japan to resolve this mess, and when in Rome, or Japan, in this case, am I right?” Poppy laughed. “So. What part are you going to sever to prove your loyalty to me?”

*********

“The Italians?” Tora turned over his shoulder, hands in his pockets looking at Vincent, who glanced up from his work. “What are they doing in Narin City?”

“Saving face.” Vincent told him. “And I need you to make sure they stay in line.”

“How would I go about doing that?” Tora turned around to face Vincent, crossing his arms.

“The Magianelli family is well known for their elaborate parties.” Vincent explained, capping a pen he had been writing with and reaching into his desk, producing a golden envelope and handing it to Tora. “And since you clean up nicely, I thought you might be able to persuade a few family members to let you in on their deepest, darkest family secrets.”

Tora raised an eyebrow at Vincent.

“Or at least tell you exactly what the fuck they’re doing on my turf.” Vincent leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“Sounds like fun.” He grinned, flicking the envelope with his fingers and heading out of Vincent’s office with a slight wave over his shoulder.

********

Tora handed his invitation to the doorman, who took it, and nodded, stepping out of the way, saying,

“Come right in, sir.”

Tora followed, smoothing out his fitted jacket as he entered the enormous estate. The foyer was awash with candlelight, music, and the subtle roar of the crowd in the ballroom. The sweet symphony of strings played an adagio that Tora didn’t know or really care for.

Two heavy wooden doors opened before him and a large crowd came into focus: ladies dressed in elaborate ballgowns; gentlemen fitted in well tailored suits; sweet and musky smells of perfume and cologne with a hint of sweat and champagne filled his senses. 

“A drink, sir?” He heard a voice ask. Tora glanced at the tray taking a flute of champagne to fit in with the other patrons, sliding and weaving his way through the ballroom, eyes flicking around the dance floor and toward the tables scattered around the perimeter. He made his way toward the the tables, intent on sitting down and people watching until he could figure out the important people.

Tora fixed his steely glare on a pair of gentlemen talking at a table and, upon feeling the heat of his stare and making eye contact with him, saw it in their best interest to vacate the table. He sat down, scanning the room, taking note of the people who were there. To an outsider looking in, it looked like just another fancy party full of rich people, and, to be fair it was. But underneath the surface, there were tells that these weren’t simply rich men. These were men who made their money doing rather unsavory things to mostly unsavory people.

“You have quite an intense stare.”

Tora rolled his eyes, looking over his shoulder and stopped dead. A woman had seated herself at his table: she was shorter than most of the women there and quite voluptuous, her soft curves fitted into a tight glittering golden dress. Those two golden pools of amber followed the v neckline exactly as she had planned for them to and the corners of her lips turned up slightly.

“My eyes are up here.” Her voice was low, almost a rumble of flirtation that vibrated its way through his body and straight into his pants. Gesturing up toward her face, the diamond bangles on her wrists clinking together as she did so. His eyes snapped back up to hers, which were gleaming with amusement as she took a sip of champagne.

“Maybe so. But that’s not what ya want me or anyone else in this room ta focus on when ya wearing a dress like that.” His mouth curved into a wry smile at the widening of her eyes and the slight start of her body at the audacity of his comment.

“That’s a dangerously bold statement.” She purred, her thumb seductively tracing the droplets of excess champagne in the corners of her mouth. 

Poppy wasn’t used to comments like that from anyone, and most men knew better than to ever allow a brusque remark to tumble out of their lips because she would cut their tongue out with a blunt blade for disrespecting her like that. But god was it thrilling to feel herself bristle, the heat of unrestrained embarrassment coloring her face a divine shade of pink.

Tora snorted, toying with the flute of champagne as he returned his attention to the ballroom, and the two of them fell quiet for a moment, the music and atmosphere an intoxicating blend of tinkling glasses, laughter, and the low hum of conversation. Yet, somehow the atmosphere had changed without him realizing it. 

He felt the strange sensation of several pairs of eyes blatantly glancing in their direction, and then quickly looking away, some pointing, whispering behind hands like idle gossipers, but all noticeably avoiding their table like the plague. He was used to the irritating sensation of being admired and lusted over from afar,m; of the heated stares and “accidental” grazes followed by a insincere flirtatious apology and a “come hither” stare. 

This was nothing like that.

Apprehension tainted the air, fear provoking strained tones in conversations, phrases slipping through their fingers like,

“It’s her.”

“Why are they here?”

“Is her father here too?”

“Who are they here for.”

Though she didn’t betray any sort of emotion, inside, her heart swelled with pride. She took a vicious and unconditional delight at the anxiety in their tone and the horror in their eyes as they stared at her. But her father, for all of his faults, had taught her to be humble...or at least as humble as the heiress of a massive crime syndicate could be.

Tora glanced over his shoulder at the woman behind him who seemed absolutely unaware of the tension all directed at their table and, he realized, at her. She sipped her champagne contemplatively, eyeing someone across the room, toying with one of the diamond encrusted chandelier earrings that had snagged an auburn coil of hair from her sideswept curls.

He followed her stare over to a group of men, all leaders of rivaling underground organizations. His eyes flicked back to her face, her head cocking slightly to the side to try to make out the conversation the men were having as best as she could, and that’s when he noticed a nude earpiece tucked stealthily into her ear. Why would she be interested in them? They were older. None of them were particularly attractive considering the many mafia princes and seconds in the room, and if she was here, she certainly knew better than to fuck with anyone without reason. 

“Is there a reason you’re staring at me?” Annoyance punctuated each syllable as she continued to stare at the group of men.

“Just enjoying the sight.” Flirting was his go-to with women, especially with as attractive and daring as this one seemed to be. She didn’t play by the normal rules and had no sense of reservation when she spoke. 

He saw her physically tense at the provocative comment, mechanically turning her attention to his. He watched the wheels in her head turning for a moment before she set her flute of champagne down, slid her chair back, and rose from the table. She slid her fingertips across the table as she approached Tora, and all of Tora’s senses went on high alert. She was prowling right now, and he knew damn good and well that he had crossed a line judging by her eyes alone, which gleamed with a predatorial fire that smoldered with the fury the hue of scorched earth.

He tensed as she took a seat in his lap, his thighs flexing against her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck with a seductive smile. She leaned forward, eyes on his lips, and just as he leaned in to kiss her, she moved her lips to his ear, subtly grabbing a fist of hair at the nape of his neck.

Tora’s jaw clenched as her lips grazed his ear, teeth biting hard on his earlobe. He let out a hiss of pain as she murmured,

“You must have women who fawn over your lazy compliments just like I have men who fall at my feet for a single glance in their direction, but let me tell you something.”

Tora moved to get her off of his lap, but he was instantly met with a sharp finger to the pressure point at the intersection of his jaw and ear, and he froze.

“If you ever feel compelled to ‘enjoy the sight’ again, I will cut out your eyes and feed them to my dogs.” She hissed.

“You really want to threaten me?” Tora seethed through clenched teeth. “I could snap you in half before you even make it off of my lap.”

Poppy suddenly erupted in hearty laughter at that, startling him.

“You would be dead before you could even lift a finger to try.” Poppy giggled. “Honestly, look around.”

Her thumb and forefinger grabbed his jaw forcing his face in the direction of two men who were casually watching them from a distance, lips moving as they gently seethed orders to each other. Then, she moved his face to several other locations around the room.

“Ya think a few of your dogs are enough to put me down?” Tora scoffed. 

“It’s not them you should worry about.” Poppy was losing her patience now, and she yanked his chin to force him to meet her eyes again, his jaw popping at the sudden shift in direction. “It’s me.”

“Is there a problem here, madam?” She heard a politely cautious voice ask her from behind. One of the men in charge of keeping the peace had approached them from behind, warily watching the pair of them. Poppy glanced over her shoulder at the man, her lip pulled into a snarl. The man winced slightly at her heated stare before Poppy straightened, jerking Tora’s face to the side in the process of letting him go, leaning just a little too far back. She found herself falling backward, and Tora found himself grabbing onto her waist to make sure she didn’t topple over.

“If there was,” she growled, steadying herself and steeling her attention on the man behind her, “I wouldn’t involve outside sources to deal with it.”

The man tried to stand a little taller to appear more intimidating, but he withered against her glare, hesitantly striding toward the other peacekeepers for backup. 

“Impressive.” Tora murmured, half-mockingly, half-incredulously, his hands squeezing her waist. “I really could snap you in half.”

“If I ever see you again,” Poppy threw his hands off of her waist, standing up, “I’ll kill you.”

“Miss hamster is still threatening to bite me?” He prodded, a Cheshire-like grin spreading across his face as he crossed his arms, wishing he would have just let her fall on her ass. 

“That’s not a threat.” She sneered. “That’s a promise.”

And with that, she stalked away. Tora saw several more men he hadn’t noticed before weaving their way through the crowd to follow her out. An entourage of at least 30 men surrounded her as she exited the ballroom. 

He suddenly found himself wondering why the fuck he hadn’t let her fall, and that irritated him to no end. If she were anyone other than a tiny little hamster with more squeak than bite, maybe he would have, but then again, he had been wrong to assume that about someone once before, and it almost got him killed.

Yes, she was a very real threat to him at that moment, as much as he hated to admit it, and she had the upper hand. And if he had just let her fall rather than throwing his hands around her, propping her up by her lower back, fingers grazing that soft toned skin. And if her skin felt like that on her lower back, what would it feel like to—

Whoa. What the fuck?

Tora chastised himself inwardly. Damn him for being attracted to difficult women. 

He turned his attention back to the group of men she had been watching. While his attention had been focused on her and the many things he wanted to do to her, a man had appeared that he didn’t recognize. He saw the man leaning in and speaking to one of the leaders, whose face went sheet white. After finishing the conversation, he saw the man hand the leader a card, bow politely, and leave. The leader, now clearly shaken, relayed the message he had just received to the others, who all reacted in the same fashion, his blood running ice cold at the sight of so many powerful men so obviously affected.

“Big bro.”

Tora turned over his shoulder to the low, cautious voice who had called to him from over his shoulder. Brian sat behind him, and Tora brought his full attention to him. 

His hair was slicked back, suit just a little too big for his body. His trademark cap that helped distinguish him from others was noticeably missing and his crazed eyes were wide; body rigid.

“We have a serious problem.” 

Tora stared, willing him to go on.

“Do you know who you were talking to?” Brian inquired, fidgeting with his hands.

“Not a clue.” Tora causally remarked, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“That was Poppylan Wilkes.” Brian explained as if that name should ring a bell for him, and he was starting to feel agitated at the morbidity in his tone.

“And?” Tora pressed, unimpressed by Brian’s idiotic revelation.

“And?” Brian scoffed, exasperated at his lackluster reaction. “AND?”

Tora cast a sharp warning glare in his direction, and Brian piped down, putting his head down before continuing, 

“Maybe I should rephrase that. She goes by Poppylan Wilkes because having an American alias lets her to fly under the radar without any security issues.”

Now Tora was interested, his attention fully on Brian.

“Her real name is Serafina Noemi Poppylan Cafaro-Beneventi.” Brian explained, and Tora’s heart nearly burst out of his chest. Tora nodded to Brian, who took the hint and rose from his chair, leaving Tora with his thoughts.

There was only one thought that really occurred to him. He had managed to successfully gain valuable intel about who was in town, and he knew who to talk to about what she was doing here. But in the process of gleaning this information, he had also managed to effectively and callously insult a princess of the underground. 

And all that being so, he opened his mouth, put his head down, and his hands on his hips and audibly spoke that singular thought aloud,

“Fuck.”


	2. What’s in a Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a very graphic scene depicting strong gore and violence. Read at your own discretion.

2

Vincent was already in the meeting room by the time that Tora arrived at the Balthuman headquarters, which suggested to him that whatever was going on was a lot more serious than Tora anticipated. Even Quincey sat at the other end of the table, his face solemn as Tora entered the room, seemingly deep in thought.

Behind Tora, a few other lieutenants and clan higher ups filed in, each of them taking a seat around a long black marble table. Tora leaned back in the office chair, the black leather molding around his body as Vincent pored over a few papers, before handing the file back to one of the assistants in his office, and clasping his hands together on the table. A strained silence fell over the group of men, all of them waiting for Vincent to speak.

“The Cafaro-Beneventis seem to have found their way into Narin City.” Vincent seethed. A few of the men in the room exchanged nervous glances at the mentioning of the Beneventi name, a few of them leaning forward to listen with a heightened intensity. “My sources tell me the don’s daughter herself is in town, and she’s looking for something. It must be something pretty fucking important for her to make her way all the way here from Italy of all places.”

“Business related?” a question quietly floated through the air from somewhere at the far end of the table. Vincent shook his head slowly, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes as he sighed,

“I don’t think so, but now that she’s here, it wouldn’t be that much of a shock if she did decide to put a few roots down here.”

“She had her eye on a few of the other clans in the area.” Another of the men spoke up from the other end of the table. “There were only a few of them standing together talking. The usual bunch: Takahashi, Sugiyama, and Reo.”

“Reo?” Vincent arched an eyebrow. “Saito’s bitch?”

The was a murmuring of assent at the question, and Vincent smirked,

“Too good to take care of her own business now, huh?”

The irony of that statement wasn’t lost on Tora as he listened to Vincent talk, not really offering much information. He didn’t really like to step in when it came to these meetings, and he usually didn’t have much to offer that wasn’t already on the table.

“Tora talked to her at the party.” a weasley little voice chimed in from the end of the table, narrow eyes gleaming with mischief in them. Tora tensed, slowly turning his head toward the source of the annoyance.

Scharch. That fucker.

Vincent turned an irritated glance in Tora’s direction, gritting,

“Is that so?”

Tora sighed, leaning forward.

“I didn’t talk to her.” Tora grumbled. “I pissed her off.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning back in his chair, and Tora set his jaw in frustration at that statement. A long silence passed at the table before Vincent put his hand down, his eyes still far away as he resurfaced from the depths of his thoughts.

“We need to find a way to deal with this situation. I want her off of my fucking turf.” Vincent’s voice was low, menacing. Scharch’s mouth stretched into a frighteningly wicked smile at the possibility of murdering a princess of the underworld. Somewhere in his sick little twisted fantasies, this was a bucket list item.

“But I don’t want her dead.” Vincent made sure to clarify. Scharch’s smile turned into a grimace, and he leaned back in the chair, pouting, gritting his teeth in frustration.

“Tora,” Vincent called his name, and Tora looked up at the mention of his name. “Tail her. I want to know what she’s looking for, and I want you to find it before she does. The rest of you, I want you out. Keep your eyes peeled and your ears open. If you hear anything, any mention of her name, even if you think it’s insignificant, you report it directly to me.”

Everyone in the room nodded or mumbled in assent, and Vincent rose from the table, leaning forward,

“You’re dismissed.”

Tora stood, grabbing his jacket as Vincent jabbed a finger in his direction, seething,

“Except for you.”

Quincey leaned forward, head down, hands clasped on the table as Tora sat back down in his seat, leaning back and crossing his arms in his chair. Tora knew he was in trouble since he was being asked to stay behind. And he had a feeling it had a lot to do with him pissing Poppylan off at the gala. The door to the office closed with a gentle click and both Tora and Quincey turned their attention to Vincent.

“I’ve met with each of the clan leaders in the city.” he told them. Tora’s eyebrows flew up in surprise at that statement. There was a lot of bad blood between the clans in Narin City, and he didn’t remember a time when there was any remote sense of civility between each of the clans. Maybe there hadn’t been one.

“We may not all see eye to eye, but when there’s a threat to our existence as a clan, I think we can all agree that we can put those differences aside and focus on the bigger picture.” Vincent continued.

“I don’t understand where all of this is coming from.” Quincey sighed. “I know the Beneventis are a huge syndicate in Italy, but why is this so concerning to everyone here?”

“Do you know how the Beneventis became the Cafaro-Beneventis?” Vincent asked, and Quincey shrugged,

“Marriage, I suppose.”

Vincent shook his head.

“It was a lot more than that.”

*********  
1945 - Italy  
*********

“Did you read the newspapers?” Luna Cafaro flew into the room like a tornado, throwing a newspaper at each of the nurses in the room. It was early in the morning...too early for anyone, much less a field nurse to have any amount of energy at all after tending to wounded, dying, and sick soldiers all night, but Luna did. She always did.

“What? Did they finally announce that we’re all to learn German?” Anna groaned, her head coming off of the table that she had fallen asleep at when things finally slowed down enough for them last night that they could take a break, and that break turned into a restless, uncomfortable sleep. Between the bombing that had occurred recently and the sounds of gunfire seeming to grow closer and closer to the hospital, it was hard for anyone to get any sleep.

“They’re talking about a potential surrender!” Luna excitedly pointed to the front page. 

“Better not say that so loud.” Alessandra turned over her shoulder, pouring a cup of black coffee from the coffee maker and taking a sip of it, wincing against the acidity and the strong bitterness in the black liquid.

“We have a station check today.” Anna told Luna, who groaned, plopping down in the chair.

“That cranky old man again?” she rolled her eyes. “He’s only looking for reasons to say awful things about our unit. I swear he hates women.”

“Actually,” a voice sounded at the door, startling Luna, who whirled to face the voice. “I’m not that old--about thirty, and I don’t hate women.”

This was NOT the same man that Luna had been thinking of when she complained to Anna. He straightened, and Luna couldn’t help but just look at him. His eyes were the color of storm clouds, and when she looked into them, she could feel a sense of mischief and that black hair was neatly close cut under a greenish-gray hued hat. He was darker than many of the men who had inspected their station before, telling her that he was no stranger to the outdoors, and his toned arms, which rippled kindly out of his shirt, told her that he was also no stranger to physical fitness; another welcome change to all of the other inspectors who were like giant, greasy monocled pigs who breathed out of their mouth.

In the silence, the eerie notes of “A String of Pearls” floated through the room.

“Can I help you with something?” Luna asked a little more forcefully than she had intended. The man turned to her, his beautifully soft supple lips curving up into a gentle, bemused smile at her as he took his hat off, putting it under his arm.

“I’m this unit’s inspector.” He told her, extending his hand out to her in greeting. His accent was strange, and not one that she had heard before. Being the head nurse at the hospital, she was used to hearing several different accents from all over the country, but his was off. She crossed her arms, cocking her head at him suspiciously,

“Unless you jumped in a time machine and lost about 150 pounds, you’re certainly not our inspector. So, who are you, what do you want, and where is our inspector?”

The man’s face changed; darkened somehow. When she saw it, every fiber of her body screamed at her to turn and run, but instead, she lifted her chin, waiting for an answer. 

“To answer your questions, my name is Giovanni.” He told her, his mouth drawing into a thin line of impatience. “I’m part of a rebel movement against the fascist regime and Adolf Hitler, and this unit is now under the command of the allies.”

She arched her eyebrow, waiting for him to continue, and when he didn’t, she sighed,

“And the inspector?”

Giovanni gave her a devious smile; one that made Alessandra and Anna take a step back.

“Let’s just say. He’s indisposed.”

Luna was smart enough to read in between the lines on that one, and she exhaled aloud.

“Well, he certainly won’t be missed.” She shrugged, turning away from Giovanni, whose mouth dropped open in shock at that statement. Luna looked over her shoulder at him, rolling her eyes, and scowling,

“What? He was a chauvinist pig. Can you blame me? Jesus. Every time he was here, he adjusted his greasy cazzo so many times in front of us that we started betting each other on the number of times he would do it the next time we saw him.”

Giovanni smirked at that,

“And what was the bet this time?”

Luna strode to the coffee maker across the room, pouring two cups of coffee, and coming back across the room to give him his. She sipped hers, and remarked,

“Alessandra bet twenty. Anna said twenty-five. But I was more ambitious: I bet forty. I wore my shorter skirt today for the chance to win that bet too.”

Luna felt Giovanni’s eyes travel down her body, appreciate the gentle, slender curve, and her lovely round derrière. She put her hands on her hips, sticking her hip out to the side knowingly.

“I’m certain you would’ve won.” Giovanni purred, drinking in the seductive smile on her face. It occurred to him that the other women in the room had their backs firmly against the back wall, while this feisty little cara was right in front of him, challenging him almost. Something in him liked that more than he cared to admit.

****

“That year, I’m sure you know your history well enough to know that the Americans won the war, and Giovanni found himself on the winning side of things as a whole—the American government set him up with a nice little home in Italy, and Luna, who had nothing left to lose by this point, went with him.” Vincent explained. “But Giovanni left one key thing out when he took her back with him.”

****

“They know about her.” A low voice hummed over the phone.

“I would be shocked if they didn’t.” Giovanni told him, glancing over his shoulder at Luna, who was fast asleep next to him. “Is there a reason for this phone call?”

“There are rumors of a war coming, Giovanni.” The voice told him. This voice, his informant, had been calling him for weeks now. He didn’t know much about him besides the fact that he was streetwise, and acutely aware of Giovanni’s affairs in a way that would have made him feel threatened if he hadn’t been the one to hire him. Giovanni sat up a little straighter in bed, seething through his teeth,

“What are you talking about?”

“There are a lot of people around here who consider you a traitor for switching sides.” The voice explained.

“Because I chose the winning side and grew tired of government threats?” Giovanni growled.

“Because while you’re up on your castle on the golden hill with your principessa, we are all out here struggling to get a meal to put on the table.” The voice hissed. 

“I’m truly sorry for the plight of my fellow man.” Giovanni sighed tiredly, and he was. He was sorry that they had to suffer because they couldn’t find a way out. “But you can’t blame me for choosing the route that led to my salvation. They must understand that.”

“They don’t.” The voice informed him flatly. “As it stands, the reputation of your father’s organization is in shambles. They don’t fear you like they used to.”

This was something that shocked him. As far as he had been aware, there was nothing to be concerned about as far as political standing in this city, but clearly he was wrong.

“Then should we send them a reminder of who we are?” Giovanni purred.

“Do that, and her blood will be on your hands.” The voice warned him.

“Is that a threat?” Giovanni flew up to a sitting position.

“It’s a reality.” The voice bit back. “You need to get her away from all of this before they use her as collateral.”

And the line went dead. By this point, Giovanni was so wound up with fury and rage that he couldn’t sleep, much less focus on anything else. He slammed the telephone onto the receiver, putting his head in his hands. He took a deep breath, then glanced over his shoulder at Luna. In the silvery moonlight, she was so beautiful—deep brown locks flowing around her like an angelic halo, milky white skin glowing in the moonlight, long dark lashes closed in peaceful slumber; little heart shaped lips a lovely shade of pink, slightly swollen from a long night between the two of them.

How could someone dare threaten her? She was an angel on earth sent to him from the heavens, made for him.

No. This wouldn’t stand.

He picked up the receiver on the phone, fingers spinning the number into place. It rang once before the ringtone went silent and the person on the other side was listening.

“We need to set an example.” Giovanni growled into the receiver. “Find out who has been threatening Luna, and burn them.”

****

“It didn’t take long to figure out who had been threatening the family.” Vincent explained. “I’m sure you can understand that if someone you loved was being threatened, well, no force on earth would stop you from finding them.”

Tora’s mind wandered at that. It was true. He cared about very few people deep enough that he was willing to go the distance for them, but those that he did care about. Well, they had his undying loyalty. He would go to the ends of the earth for them, and he would die trying to protect them if he had to.

“But his actions didn’t come without consequences.” Vincent explained. “Because while he may have taken out those that were threatening his family, when he killed them, he didn’t take into account that they were husbands, sons, and fathers too. And they too had family members who would stop at nothing to make the man who did this pay.”

****

Giovanni sighed, heading back into his villa after a long day. He was looking forward to her arms because there was nothing on earth that would wash away the blood and conflict on his hands like being in her arms.

When he opened the door, she was sitting on the stairs, her head in her hands. She glanced up at him, tears in her eyes, long black streaks running down her cheeks. Giovanni froze on the threshold, hand still on the door.

“Principessa?” He crooned gently. “What’s wrong?”

She rose from the stairs, and he stepped through the door, closing it behind him, heading toward her to comfort her, but she took a step back away from him. He glanced down at her hand and saw she was clutching a letter in her shaking fist. She wiped her face with one hand, calmed herself and in a low calm voice, she said,

“I’m only going to ask you this one time. If you’re not completely honest with me, I will walk out this door. And I’ll know. I know when you lie, Giovanni.”

Giovanni’s heart sank, stomach churning with a nervous sickness.

“Okay.” His voice was hesitant.

“Did you kill all of those men?” Her voice was strangely calm as she looked at him, eyes baring into his soul. He straightened, looking into her eyes as he leveled his voice back,

“No.”

She scoffed. He had found a loophole, and he had exploited it. She knew it well.

“Then let me rephrase.” The twinge of anger in his voice was noticeable now, and he knew he had just crossed a line. He also knew damned good and well what she had been asking.

“Did you have those men killed?” She all but yelled. Her voice echoed in the foyer, bouncing off of the walls and surrounding him, wrapping him in the tones of her disappointment and furor. He stared at her, not saying a word, unsure of how to respond. Could he lie to her and get away with it? Would it even matter? It was clear that she was expecting a response from him, and no matter what he said to her, it wouldn’t change the way she responded to him.

“Yes.” Giovanni finally answered honestly. He took his hat off, smoothing his hair, and depositing it on the hat rack. She exhaled a sharp breath, a laugh of disbelief escaping her.

“And I would do it again.” He shrugged his coat off, hanging it on the hook of the same rack he put his hat on. “Because if I didn’t come for them, they would have come for you.”

That last phrase hung in the air as he slipped his shoes off near the door, loosening his tie.

“Why would anyone care about me?” Her voice was cautious. He turned to her, hands in his pockets.

“Because they want to hurt me.” He shrugged.

“And why would they care about you?” She cocked her head to the side.

“Because,” he started up the steps toward her, and she stumbled backward, clearly afraid of him for the first time. “My family deals with a very specific clientele, and we have been at the top of the world until recently. Now, there are those who are seeking to take the title that is rightfully ours.”

“And why is it rightfully yours?” Luna bit back viciously. “Because you killed for it? Because you bully people into submission and expect them to bend to your will?”

Giovanni squatted down in front of her.

“Cara, do you think that businesses become the best from being kind to others?” Giovanni asked. “That we lend them our shoulders to step on until they reach the top?”

Luna scowled at him.

“There is no business on earth that uses kindness and morality to get where they want to be.” Giovanni explained coldly.

“And when will you be where you want to be?” Luna growled. “When is enough enough?”

Giovanni touched her cheek gently, and she pulled away from him, angrily looking away. He sighed, standing again and putting his hands in his pockets,

“When I say it is.”

“You’re a monster.” Luna hissed. Giovanni turned his head to the side, assessing the anger on her face. Even when she hated him, she was still so beautiful.

“Yes.” He confirmed. “I am.”

And at that, he moved up the stairs past her, pausing to look back at the woman who could never understand the world that he lived in because she had never had to make the choice between life and death. She had never had to kill or be killed. How could she understand? He didn’t blame her. Putting his head down, he continued up the stairs and into his room.

****

That night, they slept in separate rooms. It would take her time to understand, and Giovanni respected that. The fact that she hadn’t left the villa and disappeared into the night was nothing short of a miracle. He certainly wouldn’t have stopped her, but he would know where she went. He would find her. And when he found her, he would find a way to bring her back because he loved her.

Giovanni tossed and turned in his bed all night. Nightmares of blood soaked sheets and callous screams ripped through any shred of pleasant dreaming until he decided that sleep just wasn’t going to come to him.

He sat up in bed with a long sigh, pulling the sheets back and stepping into his slippers. Giovanni was certain that if he was having a restless night, he could only imagine how Luna must be feeling. He tiptoed to her room, rapping gently on her door.

“Luna?” He called gently. He waited, the silence of the hallway wrapping around him like a cold chill shooting through his marrow. He put his hand on the door, listening for any sign of response. Nothing.

“Luna? Can we please talk?” He called out. He knew she was still angry with him, but maybe if he had a chance to explain. To tell her the truth and the whole truth so that maybe she had some small chance of understanding him. Maybe then she could see him in a new light.

“Please?” He called. He put his hand on the lever of her door, the slender curve of the golden knob cool in his hands, and he pulled it down. The door was open. This was a good sign. She hadn’t locked him out.

“Luna?” He called again. The room was dark, white curtains blowing gently in the breeze. He could see her sleeping figure in the bed, and he tiptoed gently toward the bed, climbing atop the comforter and putting his hand on her shoulder.

“Can we talk?” He whispered. He gently pulled on her shoulder, pulling her to lay on her back. Her body flopped on her back, face turning unnaturally far to the side.

“Cara?” He whispered, a sense of dread in his voice. He put his arms around her shoulders, pulling her toward him when suddenly her head separated from her body, rolling off of the bed and onto the floor.

Fear and disbelief shot through his body like a flash of lightning as he tore the blankets back to reveal her body. She had been absolutely mutilated, body cut open and disemboweled, fingers separated from her hands, toes separated from her body.

Giovanni scrambled off of the bed, back slamming against the wall as he lifted his hands to his face, a deep shade of crimson gleaming on them. His breath was coming deep and shallow as shock set in, face contorting into a twisted expression of pain, anger, and dismay. His mouth dropped open and an unholy scream of agony ripped through the silence or the night.

****

“I don’t know if you’ve ever lost someone that you cared about, but he was distraught. There was nothing anyone could ever do that would have made him change his mind when he decided how he would handle the situation.” Vincent explained. 

“I’m going to guess it had a lot to do with murder.” Quincey sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“Doesn’t it always?” Vincent smiled, and his smooth sent shivers up Quincey’s spine. “But it wasn’t so easy to find the one who had killed her. Not when you had an entire city of people with iron traps and grudges that were centuries old.”

“Then it took a while to find him?” Quincey put his head on his hand in a bored fashion, yawning slightly. Tora tried to appear less than interested, but in truth, he was fascinated by the story and her history. 

“No.” Vincent answered simply, and Quincey looked surprised. Tora glanced in Vincent’s direction at the turn of events. “Because Giovanni had decided long before even beginning that there wasn’t going to be a search.

“There was only going to be a bloodbath.”

****

Giovanni leaned forward on his balcony, putting his hands on the railing and staring out at the city. Smoke from the raging fires that had consumed the city filled the air, the staccato of gunfire and screaming a glorious symphony to his ears. 

The terms of the massacre were simple: you were either part of his group, or you were dead. There was no reasoning. No bargaining. It was as easy as that.

“My son.” He heard a raspy voice, thick with an Italian accent call from behind him. Giovanni turned over his shoulder to see his father approaching, his weathered face and gray hair depicting signs of a long life lived fully and full of rash decisions. 

“Father.” Giovanni greeted him, embracing him. His father sighed, looking over his shoulder and then back at him.

“Do you not think the time has come to end this madness?” His father quietly asked. Giovanni swallowed hard, looking down at his feet.

“We were the laughingstock of the community.” He seethed. “They thought they could walk over us, threaten us, and we would submit.”

When Giovanni looked into his father’s eyes, he saw a man he didn’t recognize: one who had lived a life that had been beautiful and full of hope. One that had known mercy and forgiveness and love and light. And one that had lost something that could never and would never be replaced no matter what the future would bring to him.

“I’m done showing mercy, and I don’t want to be associated with bargaining anymore.” Giovanni explained. “You either follow me, or you move out of my way. And if you stand in my way, I will cut you to the ground, burn you to ashes, and throw them into the breeze that sweeps through this godforsaken city.”

His father watched his son, realizing that this man was different. He was still Giovanni on the outside, but on the inside, every shred of good that he had left in him had vanished, taking with him the light of the son he had loved as any father should.

“I understand how you must be feeling right now.” His father sympathized, putting a hand on his shoulder, and he truly did. He had lost his mother when she was younger as well. “But if you continue down this path, your rage will consume you.”

Giovanni laughed bitterly at his father’s words.

“There is nothing left to consume.” He told him. “I am the monster they say I am.”

“You’re not.” His father tried to assure him. “You’re heartbroken, but you’re not a monster.”

Giovanni shrugged his father off.

“You can’t stop me. I won’t stop until they’re all dead.” Giovanni spat out. “And you can either help me or get the fuck out of my way.”

His father’s heart broke looking at his son, the weight of the world forcing his shoulders down as he looked out over the city, hands on the balcony railing again. He felt a lump rising in his throat, knowing what had to be done. Quietly, he stared at his son, remembering the way it felt to hold him on his arms as a baby, to smell his hair and know that scent apart from anyone in the world; to watch him run, arms out to the side, flying as he ran, tearing through the playground, hearty laughter ringing out into the sky. His father’s hands shook, recalling what it felt like to watch him turn into a young adult, to see that anger and resentment in him and feel the rage that seemed to radiate off him, but the moment he turned his eyes to his father or felt the squeeze of his hand, all of that evaporated. And now, seeing someone he didn’t know in front of him. An anger that no touch, no squeeze, no sympathetic words could resolve; a grief that no amount of time could overcome.

His fingers shook, gripping the blade in his hands, tears streaming down his face as he took one last long look at his son—etching into the memory that boy who slouched over the railing, the city in flame in front of him, sky an angry shade of gray, and he approached quickly, hand reaching to his neck.

Before he could even bring metal to skin, Giovanni whirled around, anger in his eyes, grabbing his father by the throat, taking the blade from his father’s hand and shoving it into his carotid artery, absolutely no expression on his face. His father touched the back of his son’s head tenderly, a smile on his lips.

“Always ready as a Beneventi should be.” His father smiled, touching his face.

“No.” Giovanni growled. “As a Cafaro-Beneventi should be.”

He ripped the knife from his neck, pushing his father over the balcony’s railing and slumping back over it again, eyes on the city as it burned to ashes.

****

Quincey stared at Vincent in shock, Tora looking away deep in thought.

“The Cafaro-Beneventis spread a layer of salt on the city once it had burned to the ground to make sure nothing would grow there ever again, and then, they vanished. People spoke about what happened and told their story for years. It was whispered in the bars, spread across the continent. People looked over their shoulders for years. And just as the stories had begun to fade and his memory had begun to disappear, he resurfaced and took control again.” Vincent explained.

Vincent turned to Tora.

“You spoke to her?” Vincent asked him. Tora nodded his head absentmindedly. “I’m sure she seemed colder than you’re used to.”

Tora said nothing, preferring to keep his thoughts to himself about her.

“As she should be. She’s dedicated to her family—her father. She has to be. Her own father murdered her mother in front of her when she tried to leave him to escape the clan life. She knows the price she will have to pay.” Vincent explained. “She can either help him or get the fuck out of his way. And if she stands in his way, he will cut her down without a second thought.”

****

The rain tapped on his window as the storm passed through for the night. Tora glanced out the window, his heart heavy. The intent of the story had been to make him understand the vicious brutality of her family, and he did. But he also understood something else about her—something only people in their shoes could understand. Every choice she had ever had was taken from her at birth. She was born a Cafaro-Beneventi. She had been raised to understand submission and loyalty and to know brutality as the only means of accomplishing a feat.

When he recalled her leaving the ballroom, she left alone. Yes, she had bodyguards, but they didn’t look at her. They didn’t speak to her. They simply protected her. 

He felt a twinge of sympathy for her, knowing what it felt like to live a life without choice. He knew what it felt like to have blood on his hands, to watch someone take their last breath at the behest of someone else. He understood brutality, but more than anything, he understood consequence. 

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that the true reason she was here didn’t matter. What mattered was helping her accomplish her feat quickly so that she couldn’t bring down the same wrath on Narin City as her ancestors had brought down on their own. More than that, he knew she would stop at nothing until she had gotten what she came for because she couldn’t leave without it. There was no choice.

He would tail her as Vincent had told him to. But he would also help her because there wasn’t another way. Besides, with the Balthuman Organization’s and his own reputation, he was certain he could throw his weight around the city enough to get the answers he needed.

Regardless of the outcome or the decision that he made or how he would go about it, those words rang in his mind,

“Stand with me or get the fuck out of my way. And if you stand in my way, I will cut you down.”


	3. The Meeting

For someone as important as Poppy was, she was relatively easy to find and even easier to get to should anyone really have the need or want to do so. The hotel she was staying in wasn’t the nicest hotel, nor was it in the best part of town. There were several entrances and exits that were simple to exploit, and most of the doors and windows were so old that they were practically falling apart. He didn’t understand why she had chosen this place or why she didn’t move around more to avoid the inevitable moment when someone would find her and wouldn’t be as careful as Vincent had vowed to be.

Her hotel room had a balcony that she frequented, almost daring anyone to shoot her at their own discretion. Most nights, that long brown hair fell in waves over her shoulders, her white silk robe hugging her curves, lace bell sleeves gracing that beautiful skin and neckline that she seemed to favor baring. When she sat out on her balcony, she would write. She had a little red journal that she carried with her out onto the balcony and golden fountain pen that glinted in the moonlight as it moved across the page. It was the only time she seemed at ease. Sometimes, he would catch her sitting on the railing, dangling her feet over the edge, her eyes far away to place only she knew. Although he didn’t really know her enough to care, he worried that a simple breeze or a freak accident might be enough to push her over the railing.

She had met with several people in her room over the course of the last few days. They would knock on the door, and she would answer it almost immediately, trusting it was someone she knew on the other side of the door. Three or so of them would file into her room, and she would sit at a table, pouring a glass of tea and sipping it as she listened intently, without interrupting, nodding as she took the information in. From his standpoint, with three men as large as they were, they could easily overpower her if they wanted to, and the fact that they didn’t and that they kept a respectful distance from her spoke volumes about the amount of regard they had for her and her clan. 

Usually at noon and six o’clock, her cell phone would ring, and she would step into her bedroom, closing the door to speak with the person on the phone. Judging by the change in her expression, he assumed it was her father. She stood taller, grew colder, moved stiffer. When the phone call was over, it usually took her a moment or two to collect herself before she was able to move on to the next task. She had no sense of freedom. She ate, slept, and breathed for her clan.

It was obvious by now that they were planning something, and now all that was left to do was wait until they decided to act on those plans, and that day came a lot faster than Tora had anticipated. He was leaning against his car, smoking a cigarette when Poppy appeared at the front of the hotel. It was the first time he had seen her leave her room and be out in public since the night of the gala, and he could tell that she was ready to do business judging by the way she was dressed: a tight white blazer, military trimmed with gold buttons, and a white turtleneck sweater underneath, a skirt that was nearly short enough to be a mini-skirt but remained appropriate. Her hair was pulled up into a French twist, a glittering ruby pin holding the twist in place. Diamond studs glittered in her ears as she turned her head to look at her surroundings, while her surroundings surveyed her with admiration and appreciation.

Two men got out of the car, surveying the area, cold stares warding off anyone who might be tempted to speak to her or intervene. They spoke to Poppy, and she looked over her shoulder at her own men who stood at the ready behind her. The men pointed to Poppy’s men, and Tora saw her mouth draw into a thin line at whatever they had said. Her patience was drawing thin, and her two men stepped forward to argue with the two men from the car. Poppy put a hand up, and her men fell silent. She spoke to them gently, and reluctantly, very reluctantly, they backed off. She nodded to the others and slid into the car, her two men shutting the door, and waving their cell phone at her as if to tell her that should she need them, they were a phone call away.

“They want her alone.” Tora grumbled to himself, watching the car as it pulled away from the hotel. He blew out a plume of smoke, flicking the cigarette out into the street, getting into his car and following at a safe distance.

****

Poppy was acutely aware of the fact that getting into the car alone probably wasn’t the best way to handle the situation, but it was either that or face another few days of grueling negotiations. She didn’t have the luxury nor the desire of spending more time in Narin City than she absolutely needed to.

The car pulled up to an enormous mansion that was a Tudor style; red brick with towering gables, a tall chimney looming above the house like a great smoking titan, long windows flooded with light and life, curtains pulled back to reveal deep, rich tones of wood. The grounds that it sat on were monumental, great green gardens with grand fountains and statues all arranged perfectly, red and white roses complimenting the grounds, twinkling lights wound in the trees. It was a hidden gem of a place considering where they were. This area wasn’t well known for western styles, much less historical European architecture as it favored more modern builds with sleek lines and minimalist design. 

The two men drew the car to a stop, got out of the car and waited on either side of Poppy’s door. She almost snorted at the sight of two men who were so nervous at the moment, but she kept her composure, pushing the door open and following the two men into the house. They led her through a massive foyer, dark wood on the walls and floors and past a few closed doors. They pushed open a heavy set of doors, revealing a drawing room, where the first of the men led her to a chair, motioning her to sit down.

She took a seat, crossing her legs and sipping on the hot tea that they brought to her while they took their spots on either side of the massive doors, looking straight ahead. A massive white stone fireplace crackled in front of her, the heat radiating toward her, and she stared at the pale blue wallpaper in the room. Several ornate paintings hung around the room, originals, no doubt. The white marble coffee tables and end tables broke up the monotony of the linen beige chairs, chaises, and ottomans in the room.

When she rose from her chair, she saw the two men stir just slightly before she sighed, saying,

“Listen, I’m not here to kill anyone. If I wanted to do that, you’d all already be dead. Rather than wasting your time with all the guarding shit and twitching every time I move, you could make yourself useful.”

They stared at her for a moment, before one of them answered,

“How can we make ourselves more useful to you?”

A twinge of annoyance invaded his voice, despite trying to keep a calm exterior. Her mouth curved into a wry smile, and she asked,

“What do you know about art?”

For a moment, the man on the right stared at her, before sighing,

“What do you want to know?”

“Are these real?” She asked, trying to make conversation while she was being held prisoner in this room. She had no doubt there were people posted all over the building the moment they knew she was in town. It was the usual reaction to her presence.

“What do you think?” The guard growled back. The man across from him at the door raised his eyebrows in shock at the retort from him.

“I think you’re either an idiot for speaking to me that way, and you didn’t need your tongue in the first place.” She told him, taking a step forward. “Or you’re a lot ballsier than you look, and I should be impressed because you’re only the second person I’ve come across with the gall to ever attempt that.”

The man’s dark eyes gleamed with agitation from beneath the brim of a back cap, mouth in a hard line. He crossed his arms, the black turtleneck athletic material pulling tight across his well sculpted chest and biceps.

“What’s your name?” She asked him, narrowing her eyes at his expression.

“Jiro.” He said flatly, scrutinizing her.

“Second son.” Poppy mused. “No wonder you’re such an asshole. Did daddy not pay enough attention to you?”

Jiro’s face burned bright red.

“You’re lucky you’re a woman.” He growled at her.

“Why’s that?” Poppy mused, looking down at her nails.

“Because if you were a man, I’d have put you into the ground by now.” Jiro explained.

“Let’s play pretend.” Poppy told him. “Bet my dick is bigger than yours.”

Jiro glanced over at his partner, and hissed,

“Turn away. You’re not responsible for this.”

The man shook his head, turning away from Jiro. She put her hands up, showing she wasn’t armed, and Jiro tossed his gun to the side. He charged her without a second thought, intent on using shock and intimidation to bring her down. She was such a little thing after all, and she made no attempt to move when he charged her. Just as he came within about two feet of her, she lowered her shoulder down, throwing her full weight into him, and he slammed back against the wall with a deafening thud and a grunted, 

“OOF!”

He brought his elbow down hard on her shoulder, temporarily numbing her arm before aiming a vicious uppercut that connected awkwardly with her cheek and eye. She stumbled backward, Jiro grinning victoriously as she touched her face, which had a cut on it, and smiled. Jiro’s grin dropped, and Poppy growled,

“Enough fucking around.”

Poppy launched herself at him, and he was ready. She came in, arms close to her face. He landed a blow to the left arm, and just as he was going for a cross to the right, Poppy struck, her fist flying, making a sharp connection with the side of his face as his head snapped back against the force of the jab. She whirled to the right, slamming her elbow into the side of his head. He slid down to the floor, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

The other guard turned back around after a few moments of silence, glancing at his partner, then glancing at Poppy, who moved to the side table, grabbing a tissue and heading to the giant mirror over the fireplace, dabbing at the blood and smoothing her hair out.

The door swung open gently, a man in a well tailored Italian suit adjusting his cufflinks, stepping through the threshold, and pausing at the door to glance down at his fallen guard before looking up at Poppy.

“Do I want to know what happened?” He asked the other guard, who shook his head.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Takahashi.” Poppy smiled genuinely, approaching him, much to the other guard’s dismay. He stepped forward, blocking Takahashi, who put a gentle hand on his shoulder and told him,

“Relax, Aito. We’re fine.”

Aito gave Poppylan a once over, and she gave him an innocent smile.

“Please,” Takahashi motioned to the armchair she had been sitting in, inviting her to have a seat. He motioned Aito to leave the room.

“Take him with you.” Takahashi pointed to Jiro, and Aito heaved Jiro up, putting his arm around his shoulder and helping him out the door. The door closed quietly leaving a peaceful silence between Poppy and Aito, who turned away from Poppy to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a crystal decanter and two glasses, popping the lid off and pouring the amber liquid into both glasses, opening the ice container and dropping a round ball of ice into the center of the glass. He sat in the chair across from Poppy, offering her the drink, which she took. She waited a moment as Takahashi put the glass to his lips and swallowed before she did the same.

“I understand you’re looking for something.” Takahashi said at last, leaning back in the chair, arms resting on the arm rests. He tapped the fingers of his free hand on the arm of the chair, striking deep blue, almost black, eyes scrutinizing Poppy as she considered his question, thin lips parting as he waited for his answer.

“I am.” she confirmed, taking another sip of the whiskey in her glass, enjoying the bite of the liquid.

“I believe I can be of assistance to you.” Takahashi told her, fingering the onyx ring on his finger. His voice was calm, so sure about his words as he spoke to her.

“You don’t even know what I’m looking for. Besides that, what makes you so certain that I’m willing to accept assistance from you?” Poppy asked, putting the whiskey down on the coaster that rested on the marble side table next to her.

“Because you’d be a fool to be in my home with my guards if you were here for anything else.” Takahashi explained, and Poppy smiled at that assumption.

“What is it with men assuming that women can’t handle a little action?” she laughed.

“Oh, do believe me. It has nothing to do with your sex and everything to do with being well prepared.” he told her.

“You will never be prepared enough for me.” she leveled her gaze at him, holding it on him.

“So I’ve been told.” he assented. She turned away from him, satisfied by his response, knowing now he was well aware of what a threat she was.

“Now,” she folded her hands in her lap. “What’s this assistance you’re offering?”

“The Takahashi clan is known as a bridge clan. We’re good mediators for many of the other clans in the area. As such, we have ties to all of them and several more that aren’t within the country. Besides that, we have ties to several of the elite businesses and political leaders in the area. We could provide you with useful resources and act as a mediator for each clan you approach. Many of them are not as--forgiving as I am.” he told her. She rose her chin up, sniffing,

“And your price?”

“I don’t want money. I want a partnership.” he told her. “You scratch my back, I scratch yours. Your family could be a very valuable resource for me. We aren’t as familiar with the Mediterranean market like you are, and we don’t have as many ties in the region. We need a springboard, and your family would be the perfect one.”

Poppy stared at him for a moment. It had been a while since she’d been caught off guard. She wasn’t expecting him to make a business proposition to her. To attack her? Maybe. To bend to her will? Of course. But to try to go into business with her family? Was this man crazy?

“I’m going to assume you know about my family’s reputation.” she crooned cooly.

“Naturally.” he told her.

“Then you’d know that we aren’t philanthropists, and we certainly don’t have partnerships across the country. We don’t bargain; we receive. And if we don’t receive, we take it by force. What makes you think my family has a need for business ventures and civility when everything we have been doing has worked perfectly fine?” she asked, growing impatient.

“Because if you don’t have me, you don’t have access to anyone or anything in this region. I will shut you down and shut you out.” he explained very matter-of-factly. “Narin City might seem like a huge city, but really, it’s just a small network that’s spread out over time, and I am the heart of that network. If I block you, you won’t even be able to set foot back into your hotel.”

She studied him for any tells as he drank the last of his whiskey, putting the empty glass on the side table and looked back to her for an answer.

“Let me confer with the don to see what he would have me do.” Poppy explained. She pulled out her phone, and Takahashi started to get up from his chair.

“It’s not necessary for you to leave. You are, after all, the subject of this conversation, and I have no reason for secrecy.” she told him, and he sat back in his chair.

The phone rang a few times before her father picked up. Poppy explained what Takahashi had told her, combing through the short conversation in detail and explaining the situation with Jiro.

“If you believe you need those connections to get the job done, then do it.” her father told her. “But Poppylan,”

She paused, waiting for him to continue, but she already knew what was coming next.

“Kill him when you’re done.”

*****

“It had to be you, did it?” Poppy grinned at Jiro as he escorted her out of the building. He sulked, glaring at her, and she laughed at his poor attitude.

“Takahashi has a sick sense of humor.” Jiro growled. Takahashi had assigned a personal assistant to help Poppy in her endeavors in the city. Since he could tell that they got along swimmingly, Takahashi assigned Jiro specifically to Poppy. She still recalled the conversation:

*****

“You’ll need someone to be your eyes and ears in this city.” Takahashi had told her after she relayed the news back to him, leaving out the whole “kill him when you’re done” bit. That would have to be a surprise for later.

“Do I?” she purred. “I’ve never needed eyes and ears before, and I assure you I can see and hear just fine.”

“That may be true, but when you’re as notorious as you are in Narin City, there are several people who are itching to get a hold of you. You need to be on guard. You also need an informant and mediator to help you find what you’re looking for.” Takahashi explained.

“If you say so.” Poppy shrugged. 

“Yes, I do.” Takahashi said, opening the door to the drawing room where Jiro and Aito were waiting, Jiro finally conscious again and looking mad as hell. “Jiro will be your mediator and personal assistant.”

“What the fu--” Jiro started, but was cut off by a sharp glance from Takahashi. Jiro scowled like a child who didn’t get his way, crossing his arms to complete the look, and Poppy howled with laughter.

*****

She snorted again, Jiro narrowed his eyes at the mockery.

“Really though. Why you?” Poppy asked. “What do you have that the others don’t?”

“What do I have?” he scoffed, puffing his chest out pridefully. “Do you know anyone else who can get into a government security system and disable it? Someone who can get into closed circuit cameras to find someone for you? Someone who can take out the power to a building or a machine in a matter of seconds?”

“Yes.” Poppy responded pointedly. Jiro deflated, glowering at her yet again. 

“I’m your eyes and ears from this point forward.” he grumbled, clarifying this information for her. “You need information, I give it to you. I’m your own personal underground search engine.”

“So you ARE useful.” she smiled, relishing the many “go to hell” looks he was giving her as they spoke.

“I’ll be watching.” he gritted out, shoving his card at her as she exited the building and slamming the door in her face. 

“Yes, enjoy the view.” Poppylan told him, waving at the camera over the front door with a 1000 megawatt smile. She passed the car, which had been waiting for her to take her back to her hotel, and tossed over her shoulder,

“I’m walking back. It’s not far.”

****

Tora saw her coming out of the gate at last, long legs striding in a slow gait. It had been hours since she had gone into the building. He was beginning to think she was dead, in which case, he would’ve just left and been on his merry way, but he waited, and seeing that it seemed to be just a long set of negotiations, his eyes trailed her. 

She must be insane prancing around out in the open like that at night without any bodyguards. Either insane or stupid, though he highly doubted she was stupid. She walked with an arrogance that beckoned assailants to try to attack her at their own risk. It was that same arrogance that he had seen at the gala when she spoke to him. The same pompous look on her face that suggested that she was better than everyone else, her chin lifted up high as she spoke, looking down on everyone and everything else. She had no sense of decorum and strode around like an open book, devoid of secrets because everyone already knew her. She had a reputation.

He waited for her to pass him, gave her her space and then fell into step behind her, keeping his head down and staying quiet. Her heels clicked on the ground one step at a time. She turned her face to look up at one of the buildings that she was passing, and he saw a bruise forming on her cheek. He nearly snorted at that, knowing that she had likely overstepped her bounds with someone. Part of him wished he could’ve been there to see it. He wondered who had won. She was such a tiny little thing that it was hard to imagine her winning a fight against anyone, much less most of the men who stalked around Ares Street like someone was constantly pissing in their Cheerios.

She turned along a side street, heading toward the heart of downtown. It was unusually quiet for a Friday evening, and he wasn’t used to seeing the streets so deserted. That silence was broken by the ringing of her cell phone as she slowed down, fishing it out of her pocket and putting it up to her ear.

****

“Cafaro-Beneventi.” she barked into the phone. 

“Jiro.” he said shortly, mockingly.

“Can’t get enough of my winning personality, can you?” she purred into the phone.

“I should just let you die for that one.” he shot back.

“What are you talking about?” she laughed.

“You’re being followed.” his voice was serious, flat. She knew better than to straighten up and look behind her, so she simply kept walking as if nothing happened.

“Oh, you know I would love it if you did that to me.” she made her voice sultry. If some bastard was following her, she could at least make him uncomfortable. 

“I would cut my fingers off before I ever touched you.” Jiro petulantly remarked. “Besides, you would probably bite off someone’s--” 

“What else can those fingers do?” she purred, and Jiro stopped short, sighing. She could hear him typing a few things on a keyboard.

“They can tell you that there’s a street coming up ahead that you should turn onto. It’s a public place. He should back off or you could lose him.” Jiro told her.

“Aren’t you the little voyeur?” She smirked. “As much as I love that too, this time, I want to go somewhere a little more--private.”

“Two hundred yards ahead. There’s an alley that spits out into a sidestreet. Take him in there.” Jiro explained.

“That sounds perfect.” she sighed, the little vixen in her voice coming out.

“He’s a big guy. It’ll take a lot to take him down.” Jiro warned her, preparing her for what he knew she was about to do.

“Ohhh! That big, huh?” she grinned.

“I’m running a database check for him now. I’ll call you back when I have an ID.” he told her, and the line went dead.

“I can’t wait.” she grinned, hanging up her phone, picking up her pace to make it seem like she was excited. She turned into the alley two hundred yards ahead that Jiro had mentioned, disappearing into the darkness.

****

Tora rounded the corner into the alley, finding it dark, damp, and empty. He paused, knowing good and well that if he walked into this situation, it could spell trouble for him, but he had to follow her. She was meeting someone, and he needed to know who it was.

He stepped into the alley quietly, listening for any sounds of movement, wary of the fact that she had somehow managed to disappear in a matter of less than a minute. Maybe she headed into one of the back doors? He approached the first door, testing the knob and finding it locked. He checked it for any signs of forced entry, and, finding none, he moved on, past the dumpster and to the next door. He jiggled the handle a little and found that it had been unlocked. He knelt down to check for signs of forced entry when suddenly the door flew open with such a force that the doorknob hit him just below the eye and sent him careening backward into the brick wall of the building behind him.

Out stepped Poppy with a wicked grin on her face, and she purred,

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“Fuck.” Tora breathed, scrambling to his feet as he tried to catch his breath, the bone below his eye screaming from the vicious hit of metal it just took.

“Aren’t you the little voyeur.” She crooned, and launched herself at him. Tora was a big guy, and she knew he had at least a foot and a half on her, likely more if she was being honest. She needed to get him down to her level where she would have an advantage. She lowered her shoulder, intent on taking him down that way, but he braced himself, catching her by the waist and flipping her onto the ground, her back and head hitting the ground with a thud.

“So the only way ya can land a hit is by cheap surprise tactics?” Tora mocked her, scoffing.

“Hey,” Poppy laughed. “Whatever works.”

And at that, she aimed a crushing hit to his shins, sweeping his feet out from under him. She rolled out of the way to avoid his large body hitting the ground, before she aimed a hard kick to his ribs, clambering atop him, and sitting down on his body and wrapping her hands around his throat, trying to crush his trachea.

He turned his arm to the side and shoved hard, the impact sending her sprawling off of him and onto the ground as he scrambled up, getting top of her, pinning her hands to the ground.

“I’m not here to hurt ya.” He told her.

“Yeah.” She thrust her hips up into the air, launching Tora headfirst into a wall. “That’s what they all say.”

She ripped his head back by his hair, ripping a sharp pin out of her hair and holding it up to his jugular.

“Who do you work for?” She growled, pushing the pin into his neck.

“Go fuck yourself.” He spat at her.

“I might be doing that right now if you hadn’t intervened.” She hissed. “Now, who the fuck do you work for?”

Tora clamped his jaw shut, grabbing at her hair. She pushed the pin through the first layer of skin as he hissed in pain.

“Didn’t I tell you the next time I saw you that I would kill you?” She asked him.

“Yeah.” He grunted, struggling a little. “Just couldn’t stay away.”

She scoffed at that before her grin turned into a scowl, eyes icy and remorseless.

“See you in hell.” She growled.

“Wait!” A voice shouted from behind her. She whirled around, taking Tora’s head with her, his body dragging behind her as she did so. Jiro was breathing hard, hands on his knees. He had clearly sprinted to catch up to her.

“Don’t do that!” Jiro called out. 

“Why the fuck not? He was threatening me.” Poppy sighed.

“Because I was following ya, that’s a fucking threat? Jesus Christ, alert the authorities.” Tora scowled.

“He’s one of Balthuman’s men.” Jiro explained.

“And I should care because?” Poppy sighed, pushing the pin in a little deeper, a tiny rivulet of blood falling down his neck.

“Because the last thing you want to do in a city you don’t know is start a war with the biggest crime syndicate here.” He told her. Tora scowled at the description of his clan, and Poppy considered for a moment her next course of action before she pulled the pin from his neck, thrust it into Tora’s hands, and grumbled,

“Consider it an apology present.”

And with that, she walked down the alley and away from Tora and Jiro, who stood watching. Tora turned to look at Jiro, and grumbled,

“If you mention this to anyone…”  
“I know, I know. You’ll cut me up into tiny pieces while I’m still alive and eat me with your sushi.” Jiro shrugged, heading back toward Takahashi’s house. 

“You’re welcome, by the way.” He tossed over his shoulder. “Ungrateful little fuck.” 

Tora glanced at him sidelong as he disappeared out of sight. He brought his hand to his neck, surveying the puncture wound and then turned his attention to the parting gift she had left with him: it was a long golden hairpin with a glittering ruby poppy sitting atop the pin. His blood was stained on the bottom of the pin about ¾ of an inch up from the razor sharp bottom. He sighed, still in disbelief that he almost got killed by that little hamster.

“I’m sure she seemed colder than you’re used to.” Vincent’s voice echoed through Tora’s mind as he looked down the alley in the direction that Poppy had gone. Tora sighed, tucking the pin inside of his jacket. He knew he was signing his own death wish by following her, but he didn’t have much of a choice. So, he wiped his neck with the collar of his jacket, straightened himself out a little, and headed toward the hotel in which Poppy was staying. It was time to have a conversation with the Cafaro-Beneventi heiress.


	4. Progress

If Tora had to take a shot in the dark to guess how Poppylan would respond to seeing him yet again, he was fairly certain that if he approached her in a private setting, she would simply put a bullet in him without a second question, especially seeing as though Jiro wasn’t around to stop her. And he was even more certain that she was damned good at cleaning up her messes after she’d made them. He wouldn’t be found again. 

Now that he was also certain she had started making connections in the city, he wasn’t sure how many pairs of eyes she had either, so the best bet at this point would be to play it safe.

So, Tora stood in the doorway of Moonshine, the lounge in the lobby of the hotel she was staying at, and surveyed the area. He hadn’t been aware that a bar like this existed: a massive tan marble bar sat at the center of the room, warm golden lighting emitting from beneath it. Eight black leather bar stools with rounded leather backs sat beneath the bar, beckoning visitors to come and spend their money. The bar itself was colossal—a great golden organ-like structure filled to the brim with alcohol glowing with golden halos of light emitting from the bottles from floor to ornate golden uplit ceiling. 

Just above the marble bar itself was a small balcony connected by two spiral staircases that allowed the bartender to access the many bottles of alcohol on the organ-like shelves. Around the room were several lavish chairs, some large rounded dark brown tufted booths surrounding a deep brown glazed rosewood tables with ornate crystal salt and pepper shakers on them. Each table had a tiny side table with small golden table lamps emitting a soft lit glow. Around the room, deep green velvet winged armchairs sat surrounded the very same deep rosewood tables. At the center of the room, just in front of the immense bar, sat a grand arrangement of deep burgundy roses in a rotund glass vase atop a black marble table.

He blinked a few times, taking in the Gatsby-esque features of the bar before, scanning the patrons in the bar. It didn’t surprise him to see quite a few people that he was familiar with, including Scharch, who raised a martini glass to him, nodding, and a few others from different clans in the area that he recognized. It didn’t take much to find Poppylan, considering most of the men in the room were casting fascinated or nervous glances in her direction.

Poppylan sat in one of the rounded booths alone, pressing a glass of rum and coke against her cheek, eyes closed. Looking at her now, as she slowly opened her eyes, staring blankly ahead at nothing, it was odd to imagine the girl who had just tried to kill him in an alley. Her hair that had been up in a partial French twist now hung loosely around her shoulders, that cream blazer neatly placed next to her on the booth, white pearly silk camisole and lace trim around the spaghetti straps and the deep v neckline. He could see slight purple bruises peeking through the foundation as she placed her drink down on the little golden coaster on the table.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and praying to god that she wouldn’t cause a scene or try to kill him in public. She was so unpredictable to him that neither of those options seemed too outlandish to him, but even so, he approached the table with a calm confidence. He leaned on the back of the booth, waiting for her to recognize his presence, which she made perfectly clear that she did by unwillingly dragging her eyes over to him, sighing deeply, and snarling,

“You know, I’m usually all for sadomasochism, and for you, I’d be more than willing to whip your ass again because you’re so fucking persistent and reasonably attractive, but this is getting old.”

Tora smirked at that comment, arching an eyebrow, and repeating,

“Reasonably attractive?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ. Go away! For fuck’s sake.” she harrumphed.

“Alright, look.” he sighed, sliding into the booth much to Poppy’s irritation. She glowered at him, stiffening up considerably. Beneath the table, he heard the tell-tale click of a pistol.

“I said,” she growled through gritted teeth, “Go. the fuck. Away.”

“We’re in public. The last thing ya want to do is start a turf war here when half of my clan is sitting in this room with us to witness it.” Tora warned her. He saw her eyes flick around the room, noticing that they had caught the attention of several people around the room.

“If you think I give a shit about killing you in public, you’re wrong. Believe me when I say that there is no one that could save you when the legal system works for me.” she told him pointedly. “And if you think I care about starting a turf war with your irrelevant clan, think again. We would wipe you out in less than twenty-four hours. Competition, no matter how insignificant, is always a pleasure to burn to the ground, and I would especially relish watching you go down in flames.”

“Take a number, sweetheart.” Tora sneered.

“What?” her voice was low, dangerous.

“Ya think you’re the only one who wants to watch our clan burn?” he leered at her. “Or more specifically, me? Nah. Cheap shots like yours are about the only thing that has a chance at taking me down, and if I really wanted you dead, ya would’ve been dead in that little lacey nightgown you like to wear at night when ya feel safe in ya room all wrapped up and writing in ya little red journal.”

She blinked a few times at this information, and inwardly, Tora found himself satisfied that he had managed to make her squirm, until she suddenly burst out laughing. Everyone in the bar turned to look at the two of them, and Tora found himself thrown off kilter by her unexpected response. 

“You really are a voyeur.” she giggled. Tora noted that threats did nothing but prompt psychotic reaction from her, and his mouth pressed into a thin line. He prided himself on being able to read people, particularly women. They were usually drawn to him like moths to a flame, but this one was different, and he found that peculiarity unsettling. 

“Fine.” she wiped a tear from her eyes, settling her laughter down and flipping the safety on the gun before setting it atop her blazer in plain sight. “I appreciate the ballsy admission that you watch me, and I’ll be sure to put on more of a show for you from now on. I have to wonder: have you seen me naked yet?”

Tora felt his neck burning hot at that question because, truth be told, he had seen her naked, and he had seen her scantily clad.

“So you have.” she grinned without giving him a chance to answer. “Well then, I think it’s only fair that you repay the debt. Tell me, where are you staying? I’ll grab my long lense camera so that I can enjoy the show and have mementos to keep for afterward.”

“Why use a camera when you can enjoy the show in person?” he leaned forward, eyes smoldering in her direction. “If ya want a memento, I can leave ya a few that won’t go away for a few days.”

“Back to that lazy flirtation.” Poppy scoffed, shaking her head. “Honestly, if this is the way things are going to go with you, I’d rather just kill you now than subject myself to the torture of listening to you.”

Tora blinked a few times, staring at her as she scowled at him, taking another sip of her drink before putting it back up to her face.

“I have a headache as it is, but I am curious. If you didn’t have your looks and your size, I suspect you wouldn’t have much of anything in the way of persuasion. It must be as easy for you to coax information out of women as it is for me to tease information out of men...and occasionally women too.”

Tora said nothing, simply raising a hand as one of the waiters came by, asking for a strawberry juice, much to Poppy’s delight.

“So then, what happens when you can’t charm your way into a woman’s bed for that information? What then?” Poppy asked, sipping on her drink. “Do you force them?”

“I’m not a fucking monster.” Tora snapped, eyes on fire at her suggestion. Poppy paused for a moment. She hadn’t expected that reaction from him, and she certainly wasn’t used to men who weren’t willing to use force to take what they wanted. That was nearly every man that she knew, which is why she had trained from a young age to be able to recognize tells and react appropriately; lethally. 

“No,” Poppy conceded thoughtfully. “You’re not.”

Poppy eyed Tora for a moment, and a silence fell between the two of them as the waiter brought his strawberry juice, setting down on a golden coaster in front of him.

“You want me to give you my time? Alright. Let’s play that game.” she sighed. “But I have a few conditions.”

“I would be shocked if you didn’t.” he muttered, glad that they were making some headway here. She shot a death stare at him before continuing,

“Don’t try to win me over with your charms. Believe me when I say that it won’t work. I don’t give a shit about the character you play, and you’re not fooling anyone here. I know the tricks of the trade, and I’m well aware that you’re here to get something from me. If you want something from me, I don’t wheel and deal with charlatans and liars, but with real people. I want to see who you are underneath that tough exterior and that ridiculous surface level magnetism.” 

“Charlatans?” Tora seemed confused. “The fuck is—“

“If you can’t give me that,” Poppy cut him off, “then I will inform my father that the Balthuman clan is nothing but a bunch of liars and schemers, and you will have painted a target on your back and the backs of everyone you know and love. So, think carefully about where this conversation is going and the way that you choose to approach it. Either be respectful and concede to my terms or get the fuck out of my face.”

“Fine.” Tora sighed after a long moment. “Why don’t we start with names? I know who you are, but you don’t know me.”

“I don’t--” Poppy started.

“I know you don’t care.” Tora rolled his eyes, cutting her off. “But I do, and it’s only right that things go both ways here.”

“Fine. Poppylan Wilkes.” she held out her hand to him in greeting, and he stared at her, suddenly suspecting that she intended to grab his hand, pull him in and stab him before finishing off her rum and coke and sitting with his dead body in the booth, but, he took a chance, grabbing her hand, and introduced himself,

“Tora.” 

“No last name?” she arched an eyebrow.

“None that you need to know especially if all you’re giving me is your alias.” he took a sip of his strawberry juice. “I’m here to figure out why you’re here; what you’re looking for, and I want to help you find it.”

“Why would you want to help me?” Poppy asked him suspiciously.

“Because I want to get you the fuck out of Narin City and back to where you came from.” he took a sip of his strawberry juice, and she smiled at him wryly. Honesty. It was a rare quality these days, and she appreciated the fact that he had cut to the chase quickly.

“Touché.” She grinned, tracing her finger around the rim of the glass, licking the soda and condensation drops that lingered there. “Let’s pretend that I agree to work with you. How do I know you’re not going to lure me into some warehouse, torture me, and then kill me?”

Tora looked at her for a moment, a strange expression crossing his face.

“Torture you?” He smirked wryly. “What? Are you speaking from experience?”

He snickered at that question until a dark expression crossed her face. He watched her for a moment, her hands curling into fists.

“Poppylan?” He called her name quietly, trying not to startle her, and he saw the haze in her eyes clear as she blinked a few times, turning to look at him.

“What?” She snapped.

“Did—did someone—“ he tried to ask, but she dashed the question short,

“Forget it. I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

She snatched her gun and blazer, starting to get up and leave before Tora reached out, grabbing her wrist with a quick,

“Wait.”

She whirled on him, ready to strike again when she saw the look on his face—it was a mix of concern and sympathy.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt ya feelings.” Sincerity. Another rare trait in a person. Just who the fuck was this guy? What game was he playing? Poppy cocked her head to the side.

“You couldn’t if you tried.” She told him. He stared at her a moment longer before saying,

“You asked me how ya could trust me without knowing me.” 

“I did.” She affirmed.

“Let’s get out of here, and get to know my side of town. Take all the weapons ya want. Hell, you can even search me. I’ve got a pistol in my waistband, but that’s it. If ya want that, it’s yours.” He told her, standing from his seat and scooting out of the booth, dropping a $20 bill on the table.

“Keep your weapon.” She told him, dropping a bill on the table. “And I’ll keep mine.”

****

The night crowd of Ares Street was out in force, pouring into and out of the clubs. The bass pulsing out of the clubs was the heartbeat of the scene. Rambunctious shouting and shoving of acquaintances and drunks forced everyone on the street to be shoulder to shoulder, swaying every now and then.

Both Poppy and Tora were acutely aware of the all of the prying eyes that were on them as they made their way through the streets, Tora towering over her with a frown and sharp eyes that warned off anyone who thought about making a pass at Poppylan. He didn’t need any complications, and she certainly didn’t need any distractions.

“You seem to be quite popular.” Poppylan purred, glancing up at Tora with a devious smile.

“I don’t think I’m the one they’re staring at.” He barked back, and he led her toward Sutoripputīzu, guiding her to the front of the line, and the bouncer let the two of them in without a second glance.

“Come here often?” Poppy tossed over her shoulder, leading the way into the blue up lit room, the half-naked women were already dancing to the left and right of the room on their own stages and platforms. She paused for a moment, waiting for Tora to lead her, and he walked her toward a lounge area just off the main stage, where a girl with long pink hair was shimmying in a sparkling rhinestone outfit. Tora glanced at the stage, and the dancer winked at him, crawling toward the area where he was seated next to Poppylan, who seemed completely taken by the dancer.

“I’m gonna go get a drink.” Tora muttered, seemingly disgusted by Candy, and he stalked to the bar for, what Poppy assumed, was another strawberry juice.

Poppy returned her attention to the delectable young lady in front of her. She leaned forward in her chair, the dancer inches away from her face, and she grinned,

“And just who are you?”

The dancer smiled, brushing her lips on Poppy’s cheek, an intoxicatingly sweet scent making Poppy feel dizzy.

“Call me Candy.” She grinned. She took Poppy’s hand and ran it over her shoulder, and Poppy gently pulled down the strap of her rhinestone top, her fingers gently grazing and pulling on that soft pink hair. Poppy reached into her blouse, pulling out a $20 bill, and she motioned for Candy to come to her, which she happily obliged, lifting up the strap that was still on her shoulder for her to tuck the $20 into.

“What can I do for you?” Candy purred. “Lap dance? Strip tease?”

“I want to know about the gentleman at the bar that accompanied me here.” Poppy told her. Candy’s eyes flicked from the bar to Poppy.

“You mean Tora?” Candy clarified.

“That’s him.” She smiled sweetly.

“He’s not someone I would get involved with.” Candy told her, rolling over on her back and swinging her legs around.

“Why not? He seems attractive enough.” Poppy drew it out a little more than she intended to.

“He’s dangerous.” Candy was getting short with her, and with the way Tora was staring at the two of them sidelong, she knew her window was closing.

“That sounds—sexy.” Poppy purred, and Candy rolled her eyes, leaning forward with a smile, lips grazing Poppy’s ear, 

“You’re going to get yourself killed. He’s one of Balthuman’s men.”

Poppy smiled back, playing along as Tora made his way back over from the bar. Candy’s eyes flicked to Tora and then back to Poppy. 

“You want more information? Meet me in the back alley in ten minutes when my shift ends.” Candy told her, a seductive smile playing on her lips and then planted a kiss on Poppy’s cheek and backed off.

“You two seemed cozy.” Tora grumbled, eyeing Candy, who had since stripped off her top.

“Yes.” Poppy smiled. “We were.”

Tora eyed her one more time before glancing around the room, scanning the club.

“Do you ever relax?” Poppy laughed, and he shot her a lethal glare.

“Do you ever pay attention to your surroundings?” He shot back. “Walking around by yaself all the time. Going into clan houses alone. Sitting out on the balcony just dangling ya feet over the railing. Seriously. Got a death wish?”

“That’s a lot of pent up frustration you got there.” Poppy scoffed. Tora shook his head, irritated at her dismissing him.

“For the record,” Poppy said, leveling her gaze at him. “I don’t spend my time worrying about if someone is out to kill me. If it happens, it happens, but I prefer not to spend my life hiding in the shadows. No one should have to live like that.”

Tora nodded absentmindedly and was, yet again, caught off guard by her unpredictability; her honesty.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Poppy stood, smoothing out her skirt. “I need to use the ladies room. I’ll only be a moment.”

*****

Tora was well aware that Poppy had other plans in mind than using the ladies room. Whatever it was, he was fairly certain it wouldn’t involve too much exploitation on her part, but after nearly ten minutes had passed, he started to wonder what, exactly, she was doing.

“Ya seen the girl I came in here with?” Tora asked, and the bartender shook his head, drying a glass and pointing toward the back door. Tora nodded, heading toward the back door and pushing it open. The alley was relatively quiet, and Tora almost turned away to go back inside when he heard the voice of a familiar escort speaking,

“She’s asking for information about Tora.”

He froze listening at the door, closing it all but a short bit.

“Well, she’s in for a rude awakening if she’s trying to fuck that asshole.” A man’s voice responded, and Candy and the man giggled at that.

“Nah. It’s not that kind of information. I think she might be a spy or something.” Candy explained.

“A spy?” The man scoffed. 

“Yeah. Looking for information about Balthuman.” Candy replied.

“Ratting me out already?” Poppy’s voice rang out in the alley sharp and crystal clear. He had an odd feeling he would be able to pick her out of a crowd with a voice like that.

“You really think you can go around Ares Street asking questions about big boss Balthuman and people won’t talk?” The man’s voice asked her. He could hear Poppy laughing until he heard a gun click.

“I’m not sure what the fuck you think is so funny,” he growled. “But you’re not in a situation to be laughing.”

Poppy laughed again, a low thunderous laugh,

“You really think I’m afraid of empty threats?”

“Empty?” The man’s temper was reaching its peak. “Let’s see how empty it really is.”

Tora burst out of the door, and the man whirled around, turning his gun on Tora, who slapped the gun out of his hand, grabbed him by the shirt, and slammed him against the wall.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Tora growled. The man’s eyes widened, and he stammered,

“Big bro!”

“Did anyone authorize you to kill?” Tora grabbed his face, forcing the man to look at him.

“I wasn’t going to kill her.” The man squeaked.

“Do you know who she is?” Tora hissed, pointing back at her. The man shook his head violently, absolutely terrified of the situation he was in.

“Let me put it this way,” Tora gritted through his teeth. “You kill her and not only will you die, but you’ll drag the whole clan down with ya.”

Tora released him and growled,

“Now get the fuck out of here.”

The man dropped to the ground, taking a moment to steady his wobbling legs before stumbling back into the club, closely followed by Candy. Behind him, he felt a hand traveling across his lower back, trailing around the side of his body as he stiffened up. Poppylan stood in front of him, hands moving up to his chest, and she smiled,

“Well. Looks like you’re trustworthy after all. Fending off members of your own clan for little ol’ me? How can I ever repay you?”

She bit her lip, seductively pressing her body against his. His mouth curled into a wry smile, and he put one hand under her chin, angling her face up toward his. He leaned down, lips brushing against hers, and he whispered,

“Cut the shit.”

And with that, he grabbed her wrists, tossing them to the side, and took a step back, crossing his arms and glowering down at Poppylan who had since stopped smiling.

“You told me ya didn’t want the character I play, but who I am.” He told her. “The expectation goes both ways. I’m not ya friend or ya fuck boy. I’m here to help ya find what you’re looking for and you just keep dancing around the subject.”

She thought for a moment about what he was saying and then, she nodded,

“Alright. But not here.”

****

“It’s a flash drive.” Poppy told him, sitting down at the table in her bedroom. “There’s a clan I’ve been doing business with, the Magianellis. They own quite a few powerful businesses. Their flagship office is actually here in Narin City.”

“What’s on this flash drive?” Tora pushed for more information.

“Everything.” Her answer was simple enough for him to understand, but short enough to tell him not to press any further.

“What makes you believe it’s here in Narin City?” He asked.

“Well, let’s just say a little Icarus told me all of the details about the flash drive, and what’s going to be done with it before his little wings melted off.” Her voice was absolutely vicious, a tinge of ferocity staining the undertones of all of the unspoken messages Tora was already well aware of.

“Then, who has it?” Tora inquired.

“Now that is the million dollar question.” Poppy smiled. “Despite my many methods of persuasion and cajoling, I’m afraid his little mouth was a steel trap. Once I realized I wasn’t getting anything more than the contents and the location, our time ended rather—abruptly.”

“Mm.” Tora grunted, not wanting to get into the grim details. “So what do you know for certain?”

“I know what’s on the flash drive, and I know the Magianellis don’t have it. In fact, the drive was meant to be a threat toward both of us. Whoever has it wants to leak the information out to the public, and that would not only expose both of our clans, but it would blow the lid off all international syndicates wide open.” Poppy explained, and Tora nodded, leaning forward.

“So why send you?” He asked. “This is a big deal for everyone including my clan. Why keep it quiet instead of enlisting everyone’s help?”

Poppy paused for a moment, her mind drifting back to a warm bed with satin sheets that smelled like warm amber, a pair of strong arms pulling her own arms back, driving into her from behind, his tie a gag in her mouth stifling her moans.

“Because it’s my fault it got out in the first place.” She muttered darkly.


	5. The Price of Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots and lots of plot development in this chapter. Bear with me!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy.

“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m going to let you do that.” Tora growled, glowering at Quincey, who took a sip of red wine and leaned on the kitchen counter, glancing across the white marble countertop at Tora.

“We’re on equal playing fields. She’s the daughter of a powerful syndicate, and I’m the son of a powerful syndicate. We relate to one another.” he explained, sounding a little hurt at Tora’s abrupt shutdown of his proposal. Tora chuckled dryly at his reasoning and Quincey arched an eyebrow at him, inviting him to continue with his sarcastic response.

“She doesn’t relate to anyone but herself.” Tora growled. “You’re talking about her like she gives a shit about how you might feel.”

“How do you know she wouldn’t?” Quincey pushed back, standing up straight and crossing his arms, the red wine sloshing around the glass precariously.

“Because she’s tried to kill me at least twice now.” Tora grumbled, snatching an apple out of the bowl on the counter and taking a vicious bite into it, still glaring at Quincey.

“Well you’re--you. You kind of give off this ‘kill me before I kill you vibe.’ I, on the other hand, have more of a ‘let’s be friends and do what I want you to do’ kind of vibe. It’s much more personable.” Quincey shrugged, and Tora sneered,

“Here’s what I know: if it came down to it, and you were alone with her when she snapped, would you be able to pull the trigger? Could you really cut her life short? Because I can tell ya right now that she won’t hesitate to cut ya down with whatever she has on hand.”

Quincey said nothing, staring down into his wine glass and swirling it around, and Tora leaned back against the countertop, crossing his arms.

“No.” Quincey quietly admitted, setting the wine aside and crossing his arms as well. “But you could.”

“Quincey--” Tora sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“You can’t stop me.” Quincey cut him off, and Tora blinked a few times. He knew good and well that he could stop Quincey if he really wanted to, but being able to do that, and actually doing it were two completely separate things. He nodded, taking another indignant bite of his apple, and Quincey returned the approval.

“Now, you’ve been telling me that she’s agreed to allow you to work with her, or at least it seems that way. For the Cafaro-Beneventi clan, that seems pretty out of character.” Quincey explained.

“She knows better than to start a turf war here.” Tora told him. “She’s being counseled by Takahashi’s clan. Besides, she could use all the alliances that she can get with the shit that’s on that flash drive.” 

Tora didn’t bother to mention that if it weren’t for Jiro and Takahashi’s clan, she’d have taken him down without a second thought.

“Maybe it’s time I extended our assistance.” Quincey shrugged, sipping the wine again.

“At what cost?” Tora’s glance was sharp.

“Alliances are priceless--particularly alliances with connections like they have.” Quincey shrugged. 

“You know your old man would be pissed if he found out you had ties to a Cafaro-Beneventi.” Tora told him, examining his apple as he spoke before taking another bite.

“My father has made it abundantly clear that the survival of the clan is all that matters.” Quincey explained, and Tora saw a flash of anger cross his eyes for a moment. “So, why not ensure that you’re on the winning side when the war begins?”

Tora nodded thoughtfully, and said,

“I’ll see what I can arrange.”

*****

Poppylan sat in the corner of the greenhouse sipping her tea from a little porcelain teacup with tiny painted pink roses on them. The rain skittered and patterned on the greenhouse glass, sliding down the edges of the greenhouse and creating distorted images of pinks and whites from the smattering of roses that filled the room with their fragrance, crawling up the walls, hanging from the trellises, and entwined in fairy lights. A great white chandelier hung in the center of the greenhouse with soft white lights casting a gentle glow on the quiet patrons of the little garden tea room. A string quartet played a simple aria in the background.

Quincey sat dressed to the nines in his cream fitted suit and pink ascot, the chain from a golden pocket watch inside of the pocket in his fitted vest, plucking one of the little cakes from the four tiered caddy left on their table.

“Please,” Quincey motioned to the cakes, “they’re delightful.”

Poppy pulled at the fingers on her lace gloves, pulling them off of her hands and setting them gently on the table, her white lace fitted dress a sheath masking her powerful body. She plucked one of the cakes from the tray, examining the delicate little strawberry on top of a tiny little shortcake. 

If it were just the two of them, it would have just been an ordinary meeting between two people enjoying a polite high tea, but if you were an outsider looking in, what a sight it was to behold, because all around the prim and proper couple stood armed guards in SWAT gear behind Quincey, each tensely watching the conversation taking place while Poppylan sat alone on her side save for one man who stood behind her in a suit. Among those men, donning a black leather jacket and jeans was Tora, who crossed his arms and leaned on the trellis, watching the conversation take place. 

It was absurd to Tora to see Poppylan looking the way she did with her high society looks and her debutante hair swept up into a fine French twist, a lace fascinator tilted to the side of her lovely dark hair. She was a woman of many faces and considering this was the same woman who almost brutally murdered him with a hairpin in a dark alley, it was hard to keep up with her many personas.

“You requested my presence, and now I’m here.” Poppy told him, leaning back in her chair, arm across the top of the chair as she crossed her legs, leaning sideways, eyes piercing into Quincey’s own. Quincey dabbed at his mouth with a napkin before folding it and setting it back in his lap.

“I know what you’re looking for.” Quincey simply stated. “And I know that you’re planning on shaking down all of the clans in the city until you find it. I would like to extend my help in the matter.”

“I appreciate the straightforward offer.” Poppy smiled cooly. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline.”

“I thought you might.” Quincey admitted.

“Then why waste my time?” Poppy seethed, punctuating each syllable. There was a slight motion around the room of the guards all placing their hands on their weapons, the tension in the room nearly bursting through the glass of the greenhouse.

“Because I have a bit of information that you need to know.” he told her, taking a sip of his tea and looking her straight in her eyes, holding eye contact. Poppy sighed, pushing her chair back,

“I don’t need your help.”

She stood, getting ready to leave when Quincey’s guards approached.

“I really believe this will be worth your time.” Quincey cooly explained, checking the time on his pocket watch. Poppy snorted at the armed threat,

“You must think that armed guards intimidate me.”

“I’m not trying to--” Quincey tried explaining.

“Lorenzo!” Poppy barked.

“Sí?” a man stepped forward, larger than most of the rest. Tora assumed this must have been one of her lieutenants judging by his demeanor and athleticism.

“Tell these kind gentlemen what happened the last time I was approached by armed guards like this who tried to prevent me from leaving.” Poppy’s voice was calm, collected.

“Mistress Cafaro-Beneventi slaughtered the armed guards of the Medici Clan before slaughtering young master Medici herself with his scarf and a pair of snail tongs.” Lorenzo’s Italian accent was thick, but the message was loud and clear. Tora’s mouth curved up into a smile at that, imagining all the many ways that she likely could have killed him with snail tongs.

“Sugiyama is one of the men on your list.” Quincey continued despite her very adamant threat. “The Sugiyama clan is well known for having long standing tension between all of the other clans in Narin City. They tend to be--instigators when it comes to business ethics, using connivery and trickery to get what they want.”

Poppy turned to look at Quincey, who went on,

“It wasn’t always like that. Sugiyama’s father was a well-known and well-respected clan leader until he tried to take Ares Street. Ares Street belongs to the Balthuman Clan and always has, but Sugiyama didn’t see it that way. It ended up a bloodbath. Both sides lost hundreds of good men, and the turf war would have gone on if Sugiyama himself hadn’t backed off when his family was threatened. 

“Once the Sugiyama clan went down, the Balthuman Clan became the reigning syndicate in Narin City. Sora, the current leader, holds a pretty strong grudge against most clans because of that. He blames them for not coming to his clan’s assistance when his father called out to them. More than that, he blames them for his clan’s downfall.”

Poppy was silent for a moment before she put her hand to her heart, approaching the table, and purred,

“That was a touching story, truly. But so very irrelevant to me.”

Quincey leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, studying her face carefully as she sat down at the table.

“I don’t give a shit whose clan is at the top of Narin City, nor do I care about your ridiculous history with a war that was fought over strip clubs, bars, and shops that smell like piss and vomit.” Poppy explained taking another sip of her tea. Tora glanced at Quincey, watching his face burn a bright shade of red at her instigations. 

“Don’t think your time isn’t coming.” Poppy warned him. “You might be riding high on threats and murder and being daddy’s sweet little blonde haired idiot who spends his days with his head in the clouds and a pen in his hand, but you will never understand what it means to be in the field--to live your life in the trenches with your men instead of riding on their shoulders to avoid muddying your expensive leather loafers.”

“What makes you think--” 

Poppy sighed through her teeth, a loud, hissing sound. Then, all in one swift motion, she yanked the tablecloth off of the table, flinging it and its contents toward Quincey’s guards, all of whom struggled to get the tablecloth off of their head. Once they were able to get it off though, they saw Poppy standing behind Quincey with a shard of her shattered tea cup near his throat.

“If you were in the trenches,” she seethed, leaning down near his ear, “you wouldn’t have frozen like a fucking goat and thrust yourself back into your seat.”

“That may be.” Quincey calmly told her, folding his hands in his lap. “But if you were sitting where I am in my expensive leather loafers with my head in the clouds, maybe you’d have noticed that .45 pointed at the back of your head.”

Poppy glanced over her shoulder seeing Tora standing behind her with a pistol pointed at the back of her head. She smiled at him, glancing around and noticing all of the men in the room pointing their guns at each other and pointing a gun at Tora, before she tossed the teacup shard to the side and sat down at her table.

“The last thing I wanted to do was insult you.” Quincey explained to her. “I may be a dandy, but I’m not a fool. I want to help you because I know what it means to endure the wrath of a father who expects perfection from you.”

“No.” Poppy snapped suddenly. “You don’t.”

She curled and uncurled her fists once again, fingernails digging into her skin, trying her best to chase away another memory; another ghost from a hellish time.

“And if that’s why you want to help me, take your sympathy somewhere else because I’m not interested. We’re done here.” she stood again, grabbing her gloves off of the table and stalking out of the greenhouse.

*****

Poppy didn’t need to look at her phone to know who was calling her. She froze, dismissing her guards, and took a seat on an ironwood bench in the garden, putting the phone to her ear.

“What news of the Balthuman clan?” her father inquired, his voice a low growl as he spoke.

“They’re still under investigation, but I don’t believe that they have it.” she told him, sighing. “They did tell me about another clan. It seems that there’s a fair amount of tension between the Sugiyama clan and the rest of the clans in Narin City. If he knows anything about the drive, I doubt I will have to do much to coax it out of him.”

“Keep me informed.” her father told her, and the line went dead. She dropped the phone into her lap, heaving a heavy sigh, putting her hands on her face as her body relaxed from the rigidity she felt every time she spoke to her father.

“You don’t always have to be an asshole, ya know.” a familiar voice told her. The smell of cigarette smoke wafted into her nose, and she glared up at Tora, wrinkling her nose.

“Put that out. It’s disgusting.” she snapped.

“Why? It’s my reward for making sure ya didn’t kill Quincey and for the anxiety that you put half of the room through with your stupid antics.” Tora shrugged, taking another puff of his cigarette.

“Do you really think I would be stupid enough to kill the heir of the most powerful syndicate in Narin City without any sort of instigation or justification?” she asked him, standing from her bench and approaching him.

“Everyone else in the room sure as hell did.” Tora told her, blowing the cigarette smoke into her face. Poppy rolled her eyes, turning on her heel and walking away from Tora, who sauntered behind her.

“Now where are you going?” Tora called after her.

“Crazy!” she yelled back. “I’m going fucking crazy!”

Tora smirked, watching her walk away from him before he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, studied it for a brief moment, and dropped it on the floor, grinding it under his feet.

*****

Sora Sugiyama was a lot more difficult to find than Poppylan had anticipated. Between her and Jiro, it took nearly a week to find him, and when she did, she realized the entire time that he was simply hiding in plain sight. Sugiyama owned a storage company in Narin City near Ares Street. It was an old building that was falling apart, and most of the units were rusted on the inside and the outside. Outside of the miracle that it hadn’t been condemned, there was a chain link fence with curls of barbed wire atop it surrounding his storage unit. Deep, mucky gray dirt lined the many units, and in some places, algae grew atop the mud. Floodlights poured light onto the darker areas of the units.

Poppylan pulled open the door to the building, the odor of mildew, cardboard, and old cigarettes hitting her as she entered. The little office was lined wall to wall with boxes and rusted orange metal hand trucks. A tiny desk sat wedged between all of the boxes with enough room to squeeze behind it and around it on the right side. Behind the desk, watching an old box TV which sat on the left side of the desk, was a middle-aged man who looked to be likely in his late forties. Bags and dark circles beneath weathered gray eyes told Poppy that sleep hadn’t come easily to him and the state of his clothes, worn, faded and stretched, told her that money hadn’t either. 

“Excuse me, sir.” Poppy politely called out to him. The man didn’t look at her. His eyes remained glued to the television, his mouth firmly shut. “I said--”

“I’m not sure what you’re looking for.” the man told her, cutting her off before she could repeat herself. “But whatever it is, you won’t find it here.”

Poppy was caught off guard as the man picked up a television remote from below the desk, turning the volume up. She glanced over her shoulder at her guard behind her, who was dressed in street clothes, and he shrugged.

“You’ll have to excuse Elwin.” a voice chimed in from behind her. Poppy turned, seeing a man standing at the door, wiping grease off of his hands with a used towel. He reached up, moving a long strand of hair away from his face, smearing a little of the leftover grease on his forehead.

“What can I help you with?” he asked her. Poppy turned to face him, studying him for a moment. Two dark almond shaped eyes looked at her in question beneath thick eyebrows, arched high, a look of constant serenity on his face. A long nose sat over a heart shaped pair of lips, complimented by a strong jaw. She glanced down at his gray jumpsuit, which was tied around his waist, seeing his name sewn in red cursive letters on a white rectangular patch.

“You can help me to see one of these units.” she explained, crossing her arms.

“You want,” he paused for a moment, a little unsure of what she was asking for and frankly a little surprised she was asking for it to begin with, “a tour?”

“Congratulations. You’ve almost entirely read my thoughts.” she smiled wryly. Almost. He stood frozen for a moment, studying her suspiciously before he told her,

“Yeah, I can do that. It’s one at a time though.”

His eyes flicked from hers to her body guard’s before he shrugged,

“Security reasons.”

“Of course.” Poppy conceded. “Then I’ll go with you.”

And just like she expected, the man relaxed significantly, grabbing a ring of keys from behind the desk and pointing to the door.

“This way.” he motioned. “My name is--”

“Kenji.” she smiled, and he paused for a heartbeat before she went on,

“It’s what the patch on your suit says.”

“Right,” he laughed a little more breathily than he had intended to.

“I’m Poppylan.” she introduced herself, delighted at the fact that he was squirming before she had really even done anything to him to begin with. He led her to a side gate, unlocking it, and guiding her inside before locking it behind them again.

“Well,” Kenji began, walking with her. “There are sixty-eight units here. Most of them are open. We have multiple different sizes that you can choose from.”

Poppylan glanced around the establishment, making mental notes of the units with heavy duty locks on them and those with simple padlocks on them, tuning him out as he gave his required spiel.

“Poppylan?” he called, forcing her out of her thoughts. She jerked her head toward him. “I asked what size unit you might be needing.”

“I’m not sure.” she answered back coolly. “I may need to see my options.”

He paused. Turning toward her and crossing his arms,

“What are you hoping to store?”

“Do you ask all clients this question?” she arched an eyebrow at him. “I wasn’t aware we needed to disclose that information in order to get a unit.”

He gave her a long, hard look before he turned over his shoulder, continuing his tour,

“No. We don’t. And no. You don’t.”

“Is there any particular reason for your inquiries?” she was beginning to feel irritated at his suspicion of her. He was a lot more intuitive than she gave him credit for, and that was quickly becoming a problem for her.

“I have to say I find it strange that you’re in this area to begin with.” he told her as they walked closer to the set of units he was planning on showing her. 

“And why is that?” she seethed.

“You were driven here in a Mercedes sedan. You’re wearing a pressed dress that probably costs more than the lease on this land, and you’re being followed around by two people who are keeping an extremely close eye on you.” he told her.

“Two?” her confusion was evident, and he paused in front of the unit, putting his hands on his hips.

“The guy from inside of the shop, and the one that’s been eyeing you from across the street this whole time. You can’t miss him. He’s been leaning against his red sports car this whole time.” Kenji clarified.

Tora. Poppy glanced over her shoulder at Tora, who simply stared at her back, cigarette between his lips as he leaned against the car, crossing his arms. She returned her gaze back to Kenji and asked,

“Are you always this prejudiced against clientele who come from different backgrounds?”

“Do you usually frequent the slums or are we one of your charity projects?” Kenji shot back. Poppy’s lips curled into a delighted smile at that. He was clever; keen, and he seemed unimpeded by her charms.

“That remains to be seen.” she shrugged. “Show me the units.”

Kenji shook his head, unlocking the first unit and opening it up. A foul smell wafted toward them as they entered the unit, where a rat, long since dead, lay decomposing in the corner.

“I didn’t realize that we had co-inhabitants here. Should I charge them rent too or do they come with the unit?” Poppy smiled smoothly. Kenji grinned at her,

“To be honest, they’re squatters. We’ve tried to get them out. Even offered them a new place to live, but they refuse to leave.”

Poppy locked eyes with Kenji, appreciating his dazzling grin. 

“My, my.” Poppy thought to herself. “He would be a fun little boy toy.”

“This is the smaller of the three.” he told her, and she nodded, stepping out, where he followed her, sliding the unit closed and locking it before turning his attention to the one next to it, unlocking it.

“This is our mid-sized unit.” he told her, and she nodded, purring,

“Now that you mention it: I think I’d like to see the larger unit. There are so many things that I would like to do inside of it.”

He glanced over at her, smirking, then closed the unit, locking it, and unlocking the final unit, stepping inside, outstretching his arms for her to see how large the unit was.

“This is our largest unit.” he said to her, and she followed him into the unit.

“I’m not so sure this would work for me.” she sighed, strolling to the center of the room, and placing her hands on her hips, looking around. “I would need to test it out first to see if it can accommodate what I need this space for.”

“Maybe I can help with that.” he smiled at her, approaching her, and her body felt like it was on fire when she looked at him. Those strong arms glistened from the sweat of a hard day’s work. She could appreciate that in a man, and looked forward to eventually rewarding him for his hard work.

“I think you can.” she lowered her lids, leaning against the filth of the unit, beckoning him to come to her, which he obliged, leaning into her, his right arm above her head, gazing down at her. She was reconsidering her reason for showing up for just a moment when she heard the click of a gun and felt the cool metal tip against her temple.

“Who do you work for?” he whispered, and she smiled, batting her eyelashes at him,

“Myself.” 

“Right.” he scoffed. “What do you want?”

“You, actually.” she cocked her head to the side, reaching up and touching his hand gently, fingers trailing down the strength of his arm and back up toward the pistol, forcing the gun to move with her. “You are Kenji Sugiyama, are you not?”

“Lady, you’re in the wrong part of town to be asking questions like that.” his voice was low, threatening.

“Oh?” she blinked a few times. Without warning, she grabbed his arm with both hands, pushing the weapon up into the air as it discharged and aiming a vicious kick to the stomach, before letting go with her right hand and striking at his elbow. The gun dislodged from his hand, skittering across the ground, and he unceremoniously fell to the ground. She picked the gun up, cocking it, and aiming it at him.

“I’m only going to ask you this one time before I pull this trigger.” she explained. “I’m looking for a flash drive that contains some critical information on it. Have you seen it?”

“Yeah. I’ve seen a lot of those lately. You’re going to have to be a little more specific.” Kenji breathed, squinting against the bruised ribs that he likely had as he propped himself up on his elbows.

“Oh, you know. It has enough information on it that it could take you down along with most of the other clans in this city. Does that ring any bells?” she shrugged, scratching her head with the pistol.

“No. It doesn’t. Most of the shit that I’ve seen deals with embezzlement from clans in the area, but those are relegated to single clans, not multiple like you described. Besides, we’re basically an iron vault here. Even if I did have it, I wouldn’t tell you, but you’re welcome to try and search all of the units here and the shop here to find it yourself.” Kenji explained. 

“I’m going to assume you keep a running inventory of clan items that come in and out of your shop.” Poppy suggested, and Kenji scoffed at that.

“Why would I do that? Having a record of my involvement is suicide.” Kenji told her. Poppy nodded, flipping the safety back on the gun.

“Clearly you aren’t making a profit off of this business you have set up—at least not one that’s worth it to end up having to stay in this shit hole.” Poppy examined the gun in her hand as she spoke, taking note of the hand-me-down nature of the gun that was scuffed from years of use. “So why do this? Why not turn a profit doing something that’s more worthy of your time?”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t give a shit about money?” Kenji pushed himself up off of the ground. Poppy scoffed at that,

“Right. You’re in a clan, and you don’t care about money. Now tell me a joke I’ll actually fall for.”

“Maybe I don’t want to live this life with all the stigmas attached to it.” Kenji pushed himself off of the floor, cringing at the pain. “Maybe I just want to keep my head down and my nose clean and just get on with my life because my family has already been through enough.”

“Why not get back at them? Kill them all for what they did to you and your family. Particularly the Balthumans.” Poppy suggested, handing him his gun back.

“Why should everyone else have to suffer because of two people’s stupid decisions? Why kill and maim and torture people that aren’t responsible for their ancestor’s legacy?” Kenji explained, and it struck a nerve with Poppy. She had been living under the iron fist of her father and the shadow of their legacy for her entire life. 

“There are people who are part of these illegal syndicates that are actually really good people. They look out for each other.” Kenji explained, a little offended that she was calling his motives into question. He glanced over her shoulder for a moment, then returned his attention back to her. “And I want to look out for them.”

“I didn’t realize that honor was a term that was familiar to your clan.” Poppy jabbed, and Kenji’s brows lowered, eyes flickering with anger at that comment.

“You don’t always have to be an asshole, ya know.” 

Poppy jumped, Tora’s voice ringing out loud and clear in her head as she gritted her teeth against the unwelcome thought. The fuck was he doing invading her thoughts like that? As if it wasn’t enough that he practically stalked her on the daily, and now he was creeping his way into her thoughts with his morality.

“That’s because all that you know is what’s current; what the last twelve years have made of us. Not our true legacy.” his voice was quiet, almost sad.

“Twelve years?” she repeated. He glanced up at her silently, not bothering to clarify for her sake. “When the whole conflict over Ares Street took place?’

“When my brother became the clan leader.” Kenji quietly confirmed. She could tell that, judging by his tone, this wasn’t what he had wanted for their clan, and she had a feeling that if she asked anyone else, they would feel the same way. Kenji’s eyes flicked over her shoulder again and then back to her. Poppy made a noise of assent, her mind going deep into thought as she spoke to him. He didn’t need to say that his brother had run their syndicate into the ground. Once Quincey had mentioned the clan in the first place, Poppylan had done ample research on the Sugiyama Clan.

“And ran your syndicate into the ground.” Poppy sighed, reaffirming the stories. Kenji nodded at that assertion, not bothering to say anything aloud. “Now, your clan is known for its less than reputable tactics of subversion and deception.”

“I’m well aware of the way our clan is viewed.” Kenji snapped. “And I don’t agree with the way that Sora chooses to advise our clan to operate. In fact, I’ve all but removed myself from it.”

“Guilt by association.” Poppy shrugged.

“That’s a bullshit fallacy, and you know it.” he hissed. “I want our family to be respected again. I want to do things the right way.”

“Those are some saintly views for someone who is set to inherit an illegal syndicate.” Poppy’s voice was quiet; understanding.

“This flash drive.” Kenji started, waving his hand around in thought. “Do you have any idea how to go about locating it? What are your connections in Narin City?”

“Good old fashioned detective work, I guess. Since I don’t really have anyone here that I know anyway.” Poppy smiled, shrugging. Kenji walked her out of the unit, closing the sliding door and locking it.

“Where are you even from, Poppylan? And how the hell did you manage to get a flash drive into the hands of a Narin City clan?” Kenji crossed his arms, leaning against the unit. It hit Poppy that this was the first time that she had ever really had a normal conversation that just felt so natural to her. A moment of suspicion hit her as she realized that there was a good possibility that he had simply charmed his way into her good graces. At this point, it didn’t really matter because once she told him who she was, she had a feeling that all of that polite conversation was going to turn into frigid intensity in the blink of an eye.

“My family has a lot of enemies. It’s only natural someone would be looking for a way to take us down or an excuse to use us as a reason for their downfall and turn others against us.” she explained, trying her best to prolong the inevitable.

“Your family?” Kenji pressed just as she knew he would. 

“I’m part of the Cafaro-Beneventi clan.” she said simply. Inwardly, she tensed, waiting for the same reaction that everyone else had to her name. She waited for him to back away from her and tell her he wasn’t interested. Maybe he’d pull the pistol on her again and threaten her. She knew to expect all of those things because it came with the territory. But the longer they stood in silence together, the more that she realized that that reaction wasn’t going to come from him. Instead, he just looked at her, and murmured,

“I have a few clients who have been pretty quiet lately; oddly quiet.”

“Names?” she asked.

“I’ll get them to you.” he told her, and they walked together toward the front of the property. 

“Excellent.” she reached into the inside of her blazer producing a business card, which she handed to him.

“You mentioned that you have quite a few people who would be looking for a way to bring down your clan.” Kenji took the card, examining it as he spoke. “I also know a few people who have specific vendettas against your clan. Let’s just say that there’s nowhere you could go that they wouldn’t follow.”

She nodded, thanking him for his help as they stood at the threshold of the door, he on the inside of the shop, and she on the outside looking in at him.

“I’ll be in touch.” he told her, and she turned away without another word. She felt foolish for having trusted him so quickly, and wondered what his aim was. She allowed herself to hope that maybe he was true to his word, but she found comfort in the fact that if he wasn’t, she would relish his agony when she ripped him apart. She smirked at that knowledge as she headed back toward her car, silently joined by her bodyguard.

*****

It bothered Tora to see her so comfortable with Kenji when she hadn’t allowed him, or anyone else for that matter, the same consideration. He knew what the Sugiyama clan was well known for, and he thought that she, of all people, wouldn’t be fooled by them. They were liars, cheats, and charlatans as Poppylan had so eloquently put it, and Kenji had pulled the wool over her eyes just as he had done with everyone else.

He watched her turn away from Kenji, a smirk on her lips, and it irked him inwardly that she was smiling because of Kenji. He wondered if all of the rumors that people spread about her were true. That she, like Kenji, was willing to fuck her way to the top to get infromation. Maybe they did belong together after all.

“The fuck did that asshole even say to her?” he growled, flicking the lighter and seeing it spark, but not produce a flame. He tried again with the same results before he got frustrated and slammed the lighter onto the ground, stomping on it multiple times. When he got his tirade out, he realized that he had bitten into his cigarette and proceeded to chunk that onto the ground as well.

“Don’t try to win me over with your charms. Believe me when I say that it won’t work.” she had said to him. But it did work, didn’t it? It worked for Kenji. That silver tongued motherfucker.

He glared at her as she reached her car just down the street from him when suddenly the door to the shop burst open, and Kenji sprinted out the door,

“Don’t!” he screamed. “Bomb!”

But she couldn’t hear him. Tora pushed off of the car without a second thought and ran, his feet pounding the pavement as he sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him, passing Kenji easily and tearing toward Poppylan, who stood at her car door as her bodyguard unlocked it, slipping into the driver’s seat, his finger on the ignition button.


	6. Unwelcome Sentiments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bridge chapter, so it’s going to be a little shorter. Enjoy!

“POPPYLAN!” Tora roared a guttural cry. She turned toward him with a look of shock and confusion, and he slammed into her, arms wrapping around her, hand protecting the back of her head, knocking her back into the alley. He braced himself, falling atop her and holding there as the bodyguard pushed to start the ignition. A sudden silence followed by a blast that rattled the ground and shattered the windows created a chaotic scene as car alarms blared and a plume of smoke shot up into the sky. Pieces of the car and debris rained down around the both of them as Tora held his position over her to ensure that she was safe. Poppy clutched his jacket in her hands, pressing herself up toward his chest, coiling her body in an attempt to make a smaller target of herself.

After what seemed like forever, she finally released the breath that she had been holding, and Tora climbed off of her, bodyguard mode activated as he pulled her to him, examining her body.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, but his voice sounded so far away to her as the shock of the situation settled over her. She could deal with things she knew to expect. She could be tough, defend herself, and even be prepared to fight back if she needed to, but it was the things that she didn’t expect that shook her to her core. She could hear him talking to her, but his voice was more of a murmur, her own breathing and the tinnitus from the blast the only thing that she could really focus on.

His hands moved over her furiously, taking her pulse, tilting her head to the side to check her ears. He stripped his jacket off, covering her up in an attempt to ward away the shock. He sat back against the wall, arms around her protectively as Kenji staggered around the corner.

“Poppylan! Are you-- is she--” his voice was panicked, wavering as he spoke. He tried to take a step closer to her, but one look from Tora warned him that it was probably in his best interest to stay where he was.

“She’s fine.” Tora grumbled, glaring at him. “Ya mind telling me just how the hell you knew there was a bomb?”

“I—“ Kenji searched for the right words to say, considering carefully how he wanted to phrase his answer. “I can’t—“

Tora studied him for a second, feeling out where exactly he was coming from before realizing it was a question of loyalty at this point. If he revealed his source, he’d be going against code for his clan and breaking the trust of whoever was behind this ordeal. He nodded, and Kenji nodded back, glad he wasn’t pressed further on the matter.

“W-who,” Poppy’s voice stammered as she began to resurface from the depths of the waves of shock that had over one her. Tora glanced down at her and for the first time, he was taken aback by the look in her eyes. Fear. She looked like a lost, scared little girl who didn’t know where she was or what she was doing there. Instinctively, he moved closer to her, feeling the need to chase away those monsters that lurked in the shadows of her thoughts.

She closed her eyes, steadying herself, and when she reopened them, that fire in her eyes was back. Just as quickly as that vulnerability had appeared, it slipped back behind the walls of the fortress she had spent her life building and reinforcing.

“Who the fuck tried to kill me?” She sneered. Kenji blinked a few times at the question, a little shocked at the sudden appearance of the Poppylan everyone else had gotten to see but that she had failed to show him. Tora smirked, glad to see the treatment went both ways. Kenji’s jaw tensed at the question, and Poppylan, sensing that uncertainty, scrambled off of the ground, stalking over to him.

“What did you have to gain from all this?” She growled.

“Poppylan, easy.” But the edge in Tora’s voice just sent her spiraling even further. He grabbed her jacket just as she launched herself at Kenji, pulling her back as she kicked and thrashed in his grasp.

“Real smooth, Sugiyama. You thought you could just scam your way into my good graces? You really fucking thought you could take me down!” She screamed. “You’re done! You hear me? You’re done, you bastard! I’m coming for you and your fucking family. I will rip you apart!”

Tora drug her away as she screamed at him, clawing at the air to grab a piece of him as Kenji stood in a stoic silence watching her, his face unreadable. 

“You won’t make it through the fucking night, asshole!” She shrieked. She dug her heels into the ground as Tora dragged her, gritting his teeth against the onslaught of enraged punches and kicks now aimed at him.

“Let me go!” She breathed, and Tora picked her up into a bear hug, dragging her to his car, opening the door, and tossing her into the back seat, locking the door as she flew into a fit of rage inside of the car, tearing at the seats, punching the windows, and screaming like a feral animal, and he felt a twinge of sympathy for her. There was no one in the world who understood the rage that she was feeling like he did. He flexed his hands, recalling a time of tossing tables and chairs and screaming through a worn down restaurant. Fingers coiling and uncoiling as he remembered the white hot flames of betrayal that cut like a searing knife through the heart.

Once the thrashing had stopped and he saw her head lean back against the seat, shoulders rising and falling from the quickened breaths that she was taking, he opened the back passenger side door and slid in beside her, surveying the damage to his car. She glanced over at him, and he braced himself for her to unload on him.

“Thank you.” She muttered, turning her attention out the window to the fallout from the bomb as fire trucks flew by to put out the flames. Poppy had a lot of reasons to be thankful for Tora. For one, he saved her life and protected her. For another, he saved her from killing Kenji. Something inside of her couldn’t bring herself to believe that he was responsible for trying to kill her and that her reaction was that of shock and disbelief rather than blame.

Tora stared at her, floored by the change in her.

“Why?” She whispered, turning her attention toward him. “Why did you do that? If you’d just let me die, then your part in all of this would be done, and you could go back to what your life was like before all of this. And I could—“

She paused, staring down at her hands, and Tora considered what she asked because he realized she was right. She had been nothing but trouble for him ever since she arrived in Narin City. Letting her die would’ve been the logical thing to do, and it would’ve been easy to explain. That there was a bomb and he didn’t have anything to do with it. She would be dead, and any CCTV cameras would be able to verify that he had nothing to do with this whole mess, and he would be free to return to his life without her fucking everything up.

So. Why DID he save her?

He rewound time in his head, imagining that he had simply stayed at his car, watching as that asshole Kenji burst out of the door yelling about a bomb. She wouldn’t have heard him, and he would’ve watched her face like he always did. Her face: it told him everything he needed to know about her, and with as much as he had seen her lately, he knew it by now. The way her eyes narrowed when she was angry, the spark of rage in her eyes that always seemed to quietly burn under the surface. Or when she was down, the way the corners of her mouth turned down slightly into a frown, and she would brush her hair out of her face, staring blankly into space.

When she paused at the car, he saw a new emotion in her eyes; one that stirred something strange in him. Hope. She dared to allow herself to feel the undercurrent of hope before it pulled her under, threatening to drown her.

Yes, she would’ve slipped into the car, and it would’ve gone up in flames, that simple positive feeling the last thing she knew before she moved on. He imagined himself staring at the car as it burned furiously, debris raining from the sky, and he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and the tremendous weight of loss bearing down on his shoulders. 

So, why did he save her? Because he didn’t want her to die. Plain and simple.

But that begged the question: why? Why did he care if she lived or died? And for that matter, when the fuck did he start caring in the first place?

“Why?” He repeated thoughtfully. “Cos no one deserves to die like that.”

“But you can take a hairpin to the neck and that’s more honorable?” Poppy smirked at him, looking over at him again. He smirked back,

“I had a chance to get out of that situation.”

Poppy grinned, nodding in acquiescence.

“Well,” she sighed, “it’s been a real blast being out here today and all, but I think it’s time I headed back.”

She pushed the door open and climbed out of the car.

“What the hell do you think ya doin?” He snapped at her, and she ducked her head back down, glaring at him.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” She scoffered. “I’m walking back to my hotel.”

She slammed his car door and strode toward the direction of her hotel as he got out of the car, catching up to her and grabbing her arm, whirling her around to face him.

“Ya must’ve hit ya head harder than I thought, Poppylan, because it’s pretty damned clear to me that you walking back to your hotel alone is not safe. In case you forgot, someone just tried to blow you up.” He told her, crossing his arms.

“I must’ve hit my head about as hard as you hit you hit yours because I believe you just grabbed me. Do you have a death wish?” She barked back.

“Poppylan—“

“You must not realize what things are like for me.” She explained to him. “This isn’t the first time there’s been an attempt on my life, Tora. I’m threatened nearly everyday in Italy because I’m going to inherit this company and because I’m a woman, but I refuse to allow these people to dictate my life.”

He glared at her, wondering why she was so reckless. Why didn’t she ever listen? She was always so—so—

“So stubborn.” He mumbled, and she tore her eyes up to meet his, the knife of her speech sharpened and ready to attack, when she paused. Something was different. Something had changed between the two of them because that chasm that used to exist between the two of them had somehow become no more than a crack in the surface, and she hated that. 

“I am what I am.” She shrugged, that sharp blade suddenly becoming less than a butter knife. At that, she backed away from him, staring at him again, trying to figure out where she had gone wrong. When had she decided that she didn’t want to kill him? That if it came down to it and she had to, she might hesitate before executing? 

She turned over her shoulder, leaving him standing there amidst the chaos that was consuming the outer fringes of Ares Street. He knew better than to follow her. 

Besides, she didn’t need him.

*****

“Why are you here?” Poppylan sighed, seeing Tora standing outside of her hotel.

“Because if they tried to kill you, they have people tailing ya too.” Tora explained.

“For the last time.” She sighed, “I don’t need—“

“I know you don’t fucking need me.” He snapped, and she blinked a few times, taken aback. 

“My help.” He clarified. “I know you don’t need my help.” 

She crossed her arms, looking at him, and he glared back, grumbling,

“It’s not always about you, Poppylan. This is a big deal for everyone. If they followed ya here, I need to know who they are cos they probably know about the drive.”

“I’m going to bed.” Poppy told him, shouldering past him into the hotel and dismissing the conversation entirely. He sighed, then headed across the street to his car, where he rolled down the windows and waited.

And he didn’t have to wait long.

A flashy orange Lamborghini pulled directly in front of him and parked. The butterfly doors slid open and out he stepped. Tora almost didn’t recognize him: his long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, tailed black suit and black shirt buttoned on his strong physique. This was not the same grease stained man that he had seen earlier.

Kenji closed the doors, looking both ways and heading across the street before Tora called out,

“Hey!” Flinging the door open and shutting it behind him. Kenji turned over his shoulder, gave Tora a dismissive glance and continued into the hotel, followed closely in his heel by Tora. The two of them quietly waited as the elevator made its way down with a polite pinging sound and the two of them stepped in.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Tora calmly sneered when the doors closed.

“I don’t answer to you or any of Balthuman’s other bitches.” Kenji told him, not even bothering to look at him. 

“Say that again.” Tora growled, taking him by his lapels and slamming him against the elevator walls.

“Careful, Tora.” Kenji calmly told him, pointing up to the cameras in the elevator. The shocked expression on Tora’s face told Kenji that he had thrown him off kilter.

“Yeah.” Kenji murmured, “I know who you are.”

The elevator doors slid open again and Kenji put his hands in his pockets, entering the hallway. Tora followed after him and was surprised when he paused, finally turning to meet Tora’s eyes.

“You might be riding high right now on your successes, but they won’t last.” Kenji told him. “When you finally realize how much of your life you’ve wasted on Balthuman and the little prince you guard for him, it’s going to be too late. Vincent will destroy you, and he’ll take everyone that you care about down with you.”

At that, Kenji nodded, knocking on Poppy’s door. He waited a moment before the door quietly opened and out stepped Poppy in the same nightgown Tora had seen her in every night since she arrived. She stared at Kenji for a moment, a myriad of emotions crossing her face, and Kenji said nothing, allowing the wheels in her head to turn before she stepped to the side, allowing him inside of her room.

Tora moved forward, pulling her by the arm as she turned back around.

“I don’t trust him.” He told her, and she yanked her arm out of his grasp.

“You’re smart not to.” She agreed with him.

“So you’re just going to let someone into your room that you don’t even trust?” He scoffed.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” She told him, and from the tone in her voice, he could sense her exhaustion and resignation.

“No, you don’t, but I—“ 

“Tora, if you’re going to keep interfering, then this truce we have is done.” She snapped. “I can’t afford to have you keep fucking things up for me because you continue to believe that I’m not capable of doing this myself.”

“I don’t think that—“

“Frankly, I don’t give a shit what you think. I’m going to make myself abundantly clear: either stand with me or get the fuck out of my way, and if you can’t stay out of my way, then I’ll take you down myself.”

At that, she turned away from him, slamming the door and locking it. Tora let out an exasperated cry and whirled around punching the wall. Why the fuck was she so stubborn? She just didn’t listen!

He stood in the elevator, fuming as the elevator made its way to the lobby, and he stalked out of the elevator toward his car. 

Who did this fucking woman think she was? Why did she always think she was invincible? Or did she just not give a shit about herself?

He leaned against his car, a lit cigarette in his mouth as he pored over his thoughts.

“Why the fuck do I care? She’s no one to me. Nothing. Someone just passing through.” He grumbled. But he found himself looking up at her balcony where he saw two figures standing side by side, leaning on the railing. Whatever the conversation was that they were having, it looked intimate because she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him. She smiled at him, and he saw her laugh at something Kenji said. 

Where has Kenji been this whole time? Because Tora had been right here, watching over her night after night. He had put in the work and time to get her to trust him so they could be civil and cooperate with each other. What had Kenji done? What effort had he put in besides pressing a suit and taking a shower? Why did she care about him when he didn’t even deserve it?

Tora took a strong drag of his cigarette, seething the smoke out through his teeth, wondering, pondering, exasperating over that same question he had been asking himself all day:

Why did he care?


	7. The Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to make it my goal to publish a chapter at least once a week on Saturday. Technically, it's now Sunday, but you know what I mean.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

6

“I’m not going to ask you how you knew that bomb was in my car. Frankly, I don’t give a damn if you’re the one that put it there.” Poppy leaned against the door to her room, passively staring at Kenji, who pulled his jacket back and put his hands in his pockets. “But I suppose I should thank you for warning me.”

Kenji raised an eyebrow in surprise at her statement. 

“You are thanking me?” he smirked at her. “I didn’t figure you were the type.”

“Oh, fu--”

“You’re welcome.” he cut her off with a grin.

“So, I’m certain you didn’t come here just to get in my good graces. So, what do you want?” she pushed off of the door, pausing close enough to him that she could smell the expensive cologne that he wore. She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, a glimmer of warmth spreading through them.

“Maybe that’s exactly why I came here.” Kenji quietly told her, and for a moment, that statement caught off guard. Poppy was very good at reading people. It’s practically what she did for a living, and there were no tells in his eyes. Nothing that really gave him away to her. Her breath hitched in her throat for a moment, and she tore her eyes away from him. No, he was fooling her. She strolled toward her balcony, suddenly needing fresh air, the flow in her room so stifled and suffocating that she nearly threw the doors of her balcony open just to be able to breathe again.

What the hell was wrong with her? She wished she had a glass of ice water to douse her face. It was the fact that she was spending time with people--too much time with people, and she had started to let her guard down. She had started to trust these people that she didn’t know anything about because they smiled at her. Because they made her feel a little safer. Because when her father called, there was someone there that made the stress a little more bearable and the terror a little less frightening. And when she went back home, she’d be alone again, isolated and back to who she was again. She wouldn’t feel so strange and out of place--so vulnerable.

“If you want me to leave, I can go.” Kenji turned toward the door.

“Just tell me what you want.” she snapped, feeling almost exasperated by his presence. He strolled toward her, leaning on the balcony railing next to her, studying her face. 

“You don’t trust anyone.” it was more of a statement than an accusation, and he folded his hands together, staring out into the night.

“I can’t afford that luxury.” Poppy told him. He nodded thoughtfully, and Poppy felt off kilter by him yet again, wondering how he could be so earnest when he was the second in line for his syndicate. It didn’t make sense to her.

“What if I promised to tell you everything I know about Sakura. Would you trust me then?” he asked her. Why was everyone so damned willing to help her here? She knew for a fact that no one did anything for free. All this “help” that she was receiving, she was sure she would have to pay back ten fold. 

“And what does the great Sugiyama family want in return?” Poppy spat. “Do you want us to clear your name? To wipe out those that would talk shit about your family because your brother is fucking everything up? What do you get out of this, Kenji?”

He blinked at her a few times, taken aback by her sudden hostility.

“Don’t think I don’t know that your help isn’t an act of goodwill. You’re not a philanthropist, and if you were, lord knows those organizations that you donate to are dealing under the table just like you and probably for you, so don’t try to fool me into thinking all of this is free and out of the goodness of your heart.” she barked at him. 

“You think I’m here for personal gain?” he sounded disgusted by that accusation. “There’s nothing you or anyone could do to clear my family’s name. I don’t care how good you are.”

He pushed off of the balcony railing, hands on his hips as he paced back and forth.

“And if you think I’m here to gaslight you or twist your mind into trusting me or you think I’m here to deceive you, let’s put an end to this now.” Kenji seethed. He reached into his jacket, producing a pistol, and Poppylan had a moment of panic before he cocked it and handed the gun over to her.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed.

“Shoot me.” he pressed the gun into her hands, getting on his knees in front of her. “If you think I’m here to fuck you over, then shoot me. I’m as good as dead anyway once you’ve figured me out if that’s the case.”

His long black hair swayed in the wind, covering and revealing the ferocity in his eyes as he glared up at her, waiting for her to pull the trigger. Poppy put the safety on the gun and tossed it onto the balcony seat.

“No.” she quietly told him. “I’m no mercy killer.”

She stalked past him into her room, pouring a drink to steady her nerves and flopping down in her seat. Kenji took the gun from the patio seat, heading into the room and sitting in the chair across from her.

“Sakuro Saito works with many clients who are part of the network of people who have gone radio silent for a while.” Kenji told her. 

“What kind of work does she do?” Poppy mumbled over her glass.

“Let’s just say she’s in the pleasure industry.” Kenji grumbled. Poppy smirked,

“She owns a brothel?”

“She entertains the Narin City elite.” Kenji explained. “This isn’t some run of the mill whore house. There are strict rules. Discretion, NDAs. That place is wound up so tightly in secrecy it’s almost impossible to find a way in...unless you know the way.”

“Then, you’re a client?” she hated herself for asking, and wished she could take those words and shove them back into her mouth. It was none of her business. 

“From time to time.” his honesty was staggering. She found herself glancing over at him, wondering what he would be like between the sheets. Would he be gentle and kind? Would he be rough and domineering? Would he be sensual? She shivered a little at the thought of touching him.

“How do I arrange a meeting with her?” Poppy asked, her mouth feeling dry. She tipped the glass back into her mouth, swallowing against the sting of whiskey as she poured another glass. Tonight, she wanted to forget about what happened; forget that she was a Cafaro-Beneventi; forget that everything was her fault and she had to find that drive or else it would mean her death one way or another.

“You don’t.” Kenji’s voice was flat; blank, and it seared a hole through the moment of self-pity she was feeling. She snorted at that, and he looked back at her seriously.

“Then, how do you propose I go about locating the drive if she has it or if any of her clients have it?” Poppy was feeling impatient at this point, agitated. She just wanted to be left alone to her own devices. Kenji stared at her and raised his eyebrows, and it hit her suddenly.

“No.” she hissed. “No way.”

“Either you become a client or you don’t get in. It’s as simple as that. There are no workarounds.” Kenji shrugged, looking down at his hands.

“I can make her talk.” Poppy told him, and he rose from his seat, hands in his pockets again, shaking his head.

“No, you can’t.” he was adamant, and Poppylan knew better than to push it by this point. She sighed a long, deep sigh and nodded to him in agreeance. 

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at eight o’clock. Dress up. You’ll want to look nice.” he told her, and at that, he headed for the door, pausing and looking over his shoulder before opening it.

“Are you alright?” he asked her gently. She glanced over at him, her mouth curved down into a frown.

“Yeah.” she lied. “Never better.”

He tilted his head knowingly, well aware that she wasn’t going to tell him the truth when he asked to begin with. He nodded, pulling open the door and disappearing into the hallway.

Poppylan curled her legs up to her chest, tilting the glass back and consuming the liquid again until the world around her became a warm haze and her eyelids became heavy, sending her off into a restless sleep.

****

She felt his presence in the room before she even opened her eyes. Despite the alcohol barely being worn off and a massive headache, she knew he was there. Her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked a few times, looking around the room and seeing his dark shadow leaning against the door frame of her balcony, a haze of cigarette smoke tendrils snaking out into the night.

“Why are you here?” she croaked, and Tora glanced over his shoulder before returning his gaze out to the Narin City skyline. She didn’t need to ask how he got in. Anyone who was even an entry level clan member could scale buildings with balconies as large as these were. 

“Wanted to make sure you were still alive.” he told her quietly. She sat up a little straighter, putting her face in her hands to block out the silvery moonlight flooding into her room.

“Of course.” she rolled her eyes. “Not like you give a shit anyway.”

“I save ya ass from being nothing but pink rain today, so I’d say I do give a shit.” he corrected her.

“Right. You’re a regular fucking Superman.” she sighed, massaging her temples with her hands.

“It’s not about being a hero. I’m doing my job.” he told her bluntly, flicking the cigarette over the railing. “Boss says to follow ya. That’s what I do, but I can’t follow a dead girl.”

For some reason, knowing he didn’t save her because he actually cared about her, not about doing his job, stung a lot more than she had anticipated it would. She felt the flames of an intense wrath licking the undercurrent of her pain, rising its way to the surface.

“Could you at least look at me when we’re talking?” she snapped at him. He stiffened a little and then turned around, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorsill.

“There. Now you see. I’m alive. You can leave now.” she sighed. He looked down, his mind racing through all of the things that he should say. All of those dangerous thoughts that had been lingering, crawling around in his mind and left unsaid. She rose from her chair, closing her eyes to steady the spinning world, and she moved toward the bed, taking the throw blanket and wrapping it around herself against the bite of the cold breeze in the room.

“You two looked cozy tonight.” Tora purred at her, and she cast a sharp glance in his direction. “Decided to kiss and make up?”

She knew what he was doing because it was her defense mechanism too; lashing out at her, trying to incite a fight with her. Well, two could play at that game.

“We did more than that.” she seductively murmured, letting the blankets fall off of her shoulders. He arched an eyebrow at her.

“I guess I’m not surprised.” he told her, pushing off of the doorframe. “Considering your clan’s reputation, Sugiyama fits you perfectly.”

He very nearly spit the word perfectly out, and she fell right into his trap, bristling at that comment.

“Did he say all the right things?” Tora went on. “Convince you that he wants to help ya for nothing? Because he’s a good person?”

“You’d be wise to stop now.” Poppy hissed.

“Or what?” Tora challenged her, squaring his shoulders at her. “What are you going to do?”

She reacted before she even really had a plan, launching herself at him full force throwing jab after jab in his direction, her fists hitting the outside of his arm as he shoved her back forcefully. She stumbled backward, but heaved herself back at him again, all of that pent up frustration, anger, pain, fear coming out in the form of a vicious barrage of blows, peppering his arms, followed by a cross that caught his cheek, sending him stumbling backward.

“You just had to be an asshole.” she breathed, kicking out at him, trying to take him down with a swipe of her leg. He turned his leg to the side to block it. “What the fuck were you hoping to accomplish?”

He moved in quickly, hands flying toward her face and body as she barely had enough time to block them and register what was happening before he moved around her, taking his foot to her knee and bringing her down to the ground, where she lay without struggling, the two of them breathing hard, glaring.

“Every time. You’re always in the fucking way.” she seethed. “Always popping up everywhere I go, interfering with my plans, watching me from afar. Now, I fucking owe you my life.”

He stared down at her, feeling that rage seeping from her as she yelled at him.

“So, what the fuck do you want from me? I know Vincent isn’t asking you to do all of this shit. You’re doing it on your own. Why won’t you just fucking leave me alone?” she growled. 

“Because I can’t!” he yelled, and for a moment, He was shocked at his response. “Believe me, I don’t want to spend my time thinking about you, but I do. I don’t want to sit here and be pissed off when I see ya with fucking Sugiyama, but I am. And the last thing I want to do is care about whether or not you’re going to be alive in the morning, or if you’re okay, but god damn it, I do, and I don’t know why.”

And something in her woke up. Something she hadn’t even known existed this entire time. This feeling that she couldn’t quite explain that felt warm. It made her feel afraid and alive all at the same time. Like she was sick, but had butterflies stirring up her insides. She didn’t know what else to do besides what she did:

She shot up into a sitting position, reached out to him, and crushed her lips to his.


	8. Melting the Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! Two updates in one week. Thank goodness for snow days. Next update on Saturday :)
> 
> NSFW chapter ahead.

Poppylan slammed into a wall, heated breaths and fervent kisses moving from mouths to necks to shoulders, hands wandering everywhere they could reach and touch, desperate to know each other, to find each other. She ran her hands through his hair, grabbing it and pulling his head back as he seethed both in pain and pleasure, taking the kissing and biting as it came in waves, ebbing and flowing with the sensation of heat and scorching desire.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Poppy hissed between breaths, leaning herself into him, his lips trailing her neck.

“You’ve tried to kill me twice now, and you’ve attacked me a third time.” Tora whispered into her ear, and a delicious shiver ran up her spine. She felt the warm softness of a leather belt being wrapped around her wrists, and he leaned down running his tongue along her neck, and biting her just as he tightened the belt almost painfully on her wrists.

Poppy let out a loud hiss and groan all at once, and Tora pushed her down onto the bed, her chest hitting the soft comforter with a soft impact. She laughed a titillatingly rich, dark chuckle that nearly did him in, his body pulsing with life and warmth and voracity. His hands traced the sides of her body, her hips, and he leaned down to her ear, whispering,

“Want to let me in on the joke?”

“It’s cute.” she smiled, leaning over her shoulder and capturing his lips in her own, biting down on his lower lip and eliciting a low growl from him. “That you think this can hold me.”

She whirled on him, pushing him away from her with the side of her arm, before he yanked her back to his body, hands roaming the curves and crevices of her, getting to know those hidden places that she had kept secret for so long. His fingers grabbed at the gauzy white gown, pulling her to him, capturing her in his arms and picking her up, wrapping her legs around him, mouth crushing into hers over and over again, she parting her lips to allow his tongue to explore her mouth, and he taking great pleasure in that decadent discovery.

He pushed the hem of her dress up to her thighs, whirling with her, holding her body against home with one arm and lying her on the bed with the other, fingers tracing idle circles on her legs. She threw her head back, enjoying the electric sensation running down her legs, sending chills through her body, mouth open, breathing him in.

Suddenly, he flipped her over, tearing off the lace robe over her nightgown and discarding it onto the floor. She propped herself up on her elbows, glancing over her shoulder at him, this tall, dark shadow of a man staring down at her, wanting to simultaneously appreciate her, worship her body, breathe in her scent, taste her body and know her better. But another part of him wanted to ravage her; to tear her clothes from her body and make her his. To leave his mark on her so everyone would know that she was his and back the fuck off.

She sat up onto her knees, pulling the little lace sleeves over her shoulders, watching them fall uselessly to the side of her arm. She smirked, gently backing herself off of the bed and turning to face him.

“My turn.” she whispered in a sing-songy voice, approaching him, putting her hands on his chest and appreciating all of the hard work that he had clearly put into himself. She walked around his body, hand following over the lines and hard earned bulges of his body; the biceps and triceps that told the story of hours in the gym, his hands, which told her he was experienced with a gun and calluses, which revealed that he played the guitar. She drug her hand around his back, taking the bottom of his shirt and slowly lifting it over his head, fingers appreciating the art on his back and his arms, tracing the intricate floral signature pieces in his arm and his delts and traps. She leaned forward planting kiss after kiss along his shoulders, following the strength of his body back around the front of his body, where he stopped her, gently guiding her lips back up to his, his hands resting on her shoulders, pushing those sleeves the rest of the way over her body, her nightgown falling into a gauzy heap onto the ground, which she stepped out of, kicking it out of the way.

She pulled him back onto the bed with her by the button of his pants, loosening it and unzipping his pants all at once as she plopped herself down onto the bed with a little,

“Oops.”

And another smirk.

“An accident?” he played along. “Maybe I should zip ‘em back up and figure out what the problem is.”

“Why zip them up when you can just take them off?” she shrugged. He cocked his head to look at her, a knowing smile on her face.

“I’m not sure if I should.” he teased her, crawling toward her. She crawled backward away from him, leveling her gaze at him and growling,

“Take them off.”

“Fuck if I’m listening to a little hamster like you.” he snorted.

“Then, I’ll just have to make you.” she sighed, and she launched herself at him, effectively flipping him onto his back and climbing on top of him. She reached for the belt, which had lain forgotten on the comforter until this moment, and looped the belt around his wrists, fastening him to the headboard as he tugged at the belt. He grunted in effort, and she sat down on top of him, hands running across his chest down to his stomach.

“Mmm, sorry.” she teased him. “Not going to happen.”

He pulled as hard as he could, his face turning red as he did so. He felt a momentary surge of panic at being completely incapacitated by her until he saw her look him dead in his eyes, lean down and kiss his chest, running her tongue along the shape of his peck, down his body toward his jeans. She grabbed a hold of his jeans as she found her way off of the bed, yanking them off of his legs and throwing them on the floor, leaving him completely exposed in front of her in all of his glory.

“You win.” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “Now, let me go.”

“No.” her voice was contemplative. “I don’t think I will.”

“Poppylan, you--” but he was cut off suddenly because she leaned down, taking him completely in her mouth and sucking on him hard, throwing his head back, arms straining against the restraints. He wanted more than anything to touch her, that dizzying sensation nearly driving him insane. He wanted to pull her hair, to push her head down to just fucking touch her. It was so torturous. Her tongue lashed against him, tracing the length of him, pulling him into her and releasing him over and over again, and just as he found himself about to go over the edge, she stopped, climbing on top of him, leaning down and kissing him as she reached into her bedside drawer pulling out a condom, ripping it open with her teeth and rolling it down the length of him.

“Tell me the truth now.” she felt the intoxicating feeling of absolute need, her body about to burst from the urgency of it. She had to have him. He lifted his head off of the pillow to look at her.

“What?” confusion. He couldn’t see straight. Couldn’t think straight. Hell, the only thing he could even see or focus on right now was her.

“Once and for all, why are you here?” she whispered, climbing on top of him again, situating herself over him, his breath hissing out of his teeth. “Why?”

She dipped herself onto him, watching him writhe against the sensation.

“For you.” he told her, his breath quickening. “For you.”

And that was enough. She reached up, releasing the buckle on the belt, and he sat up, wrapping his arms around her and slamming into her. She braced herself against him, hands on his knees, head back in absolute bliss, breath seething from her teeth before she let out a loud moan against him. He rocked his hips against her, as she bounced herself on top of him, wanting to feel that building tension in her body.

“Oh fuck.” he breathed against her body, lips catching hers as she continued to work him. He could feel that pressure building in his body, and he stopped her, feeling her continue to rock her hips against him.

“You little--” he griped, flipping her onto her back as she giggled. “Ya don’t always have to be in control.”

And at that, he drove into her again and again, the two of them keeping pace, matching the ferocious appetite that both of them had inadvertently had for each other since the gala. He could feel her, appreciate her, and understand her better than anyone. He wanted to know her body now. All of the spots that made her squirm; the words that made her throw her head back in pleasure; the flutter of her eyelashes when he drew her close to the edge just to pull her back again, that agitated groan of displeasure giving him more than enough to keep him going. He wanted to tease her, to give her a taste of what it was like to feel the way he had been feeling before he even realized he was feeling it.

She reached up, hands grabbing the sheets above her head as he pulled her close again, driving into her again and again until she couldn’t take it anymore. She threw her head back, a sharp breath followed by a loud moan pulling him right over the edge with her, the look on her face, the feeling of her body, the sound of her voice too much for him to handle.

They lay in silence, breathing coming nearly in gasps, listening to the sound of the fleeting moment of pleasure that paved a path for her to fall into herself and forget about things for a while. And as the breathing eased, returning to normal so did her senses, and she felt an overwhelming sense of worry seize her. She turned her head to gaze at him, his eyes closed as he rested next to her.

“Look at me.” she whispered, fingers touching his face to get him to see her, and he did, his golden eyes smoldering down into her deep brown eyes, pulling him under with each fleck of deep brown and hazel that she never would’ve allowed him to see. She studied him hard, squinting to look in his eyes.

“I can’t make you out.” she told him, feeling lost, floating in an endless space, searching for a tether to something that she was certain of, arms flailing, hands grasping for something, anything familiar to hold onto. Seeing that look in her eyes nearly destroyed him from the inside out; that feeling of being absolutely out of place, uncertain of who to trust because her life had made her believe that no one was worthy of that trust.

A sense of pride swelled in his body knowing that she had trusted him enough to let him in; that she had left the door open just a crack for him, and he had made the decision to follow her, forcing that door open one day and word at a time, just enough for him to squeeze himself through, shut it and guard it. That he was the one who got to touch her and feel her, and he was the one who was allowed to possess her.

“Then let me make it clear for ya.” he told her. “I don’t care who you are or what family ya from. When ya look at me, I just want you to know you can trust me. To know I’m not here to hurt you or fuck you over.”

She could feel him reaching out a hand to her; to give her a chance to find a familiar place to belong. A tether to bind herself to. All she had to do was reach back. She looked into his eyes, and he leaned down, this time a little more gently, and he kissed her, lips moving against hers unhurried and unashamed. She leaned into him, pulling him toward her, his body moulding against hers, so warm and recognizable.  
*****

That night, long after Tora had fallen asleep, Poppy lay awake gazing down at him. It was a gamble to trust him because there were so many ways that he could take advantage of her. People didn’t just usually waltz into her life without ill intentions, and even though she’d had him, it was hard for her to truly believe him when he told her that he wasn’t there for any other reason but her and her alone.

She sighed, getting out of bed and making her way to the balcony, leaning down on the railing and looking up at the sky, deep in thought.

“What choice do I have?” she thought to herself. Realistically, she knew she was done for with Tora. She trusted him even though every part of her body was pleading with her to shut him out. She believed him when he said he wanted her for her even though every fiber of her being was telling her to run from him while she still could before she buried herself alive.

“Poppylan?” his voice called to her at the door, and a string snapped in place between the two of them. She squeezed her eyes shut and straightened, turning to look at him. He leaned against the doorframe, jeans back on staring at her, his face awash with concern, and when she looked at him, every trace of doubt and fear that she had about him and about his intentions seemed to melt away, that icy wall coming down a little at a time each day.

“I’m fine. Just--needed air.” she smiled, heading toward him. She stopped in the doorway, turning to look at him, the blue silvery light of the moon casting a beautiful glow on his face as he smiled gently down at her, reaching out to touch her face. She put her hands on his, leaning into his touch before she nodded, heading back to bed.


	9. This is War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez what a long week! My kiddo got put into quarantine, so I've been here at home with her, but hey, getting a chance to write makes all of this a ton better.
> 
> I'm planning on publishing updates by no later than the time that the Webtoon would usually come out. That being said, VOILA! Enjoy the angst.

Most of the night passed by peacefully, while the rest of the day was filled with hushed words, bodies tangled together, lips exploring places that hadn’t previously encountered the night before. But as the day faded into night, Poppy felt that small moment of ignorance and bliss slipping away with the rays of the sun. She lay between the sheets, tracing the scales of the koi fish near Tora’s shoulder absentmindedly, the two of them lying in silence, letting the minutes pass by until she heard her alarm clock blaring next to her on the nightstand. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting a deep sigh escape her lips as she rolled over, shutting it off. She pulled the blankets off of her body, the cool air chilling the curves and edges that he had traversed with fingers, lips, and his tongue, feeling that familiar soreness that she had come to love--a reminder that he had been there in the minutes and hours before.

She disappeared into the bathroom, reappearing nearly 30 minutes later with diamond studs in her hands, fastening them to her lobes, her tight wine colored dress hugging her curves, straps hanging off of her shoulders, dipping tastefully into her cleavage, where a large canary pear diamond rested, attached to an intricate white diamond necklace that looked like vines spreading from a fine golden chain. The dress hugged her hips, stopping mid-thigh, a slit drawing the eye to her upper thigh. She reached up, pulling her bangs out and braiding her hair down to the nape of her neck before tying it into an elegant bun.

Tora sat up in bed, fully appreciating the sight of her beauty from her carefully done makeup accented with a red lip down to her curves that looked absolutely delectable in that dress. She sat on the edge of the bed pulling her sky high nude heels toward her, the red backs of them pristine. She fastened the strap around her ankle and stood up, inspecting herself in the mirror.

Tora pulled the blankets back, pulling his jeans on as he glanced over at her with a smirk,

“Heading to a party?”

He pulled his shirt back on over his massive frame, taking the glass of water near the table and taking a sip of it.

“No.” she answered, leaning in to fine tune her eyeliner. “A brothel.”

Tora snorted, swallowing painfully hard and coughing, water dripping from his mouth. Her brows dipped and she looked at him in the mirror, waiting for him to regain his composure before she continued on,

“Sakura Saito’s brothel to be more precise.”

“Ya can’t just walk in there off of the street, Poppylan. She’ll take you out before you even set foot in the main brothel.” he growled at her incredulously.

“I’m not an idiot, Tora. I know I can’t just walk in there.” she rolled her eyes. “But Kenji can.”

Kenji. That asshole. His eyes darkened an angry, stormy shade of gold as he looked away from her stiffly. Everything in him wanted to stop her; to tell her not to go with him because he couldn’t be trusted, but he knew better than to try to stop her. This was business, and he was well aware of it. Her phone dinged, and she looked at the screen, texting back before depositing her phone into her clutch.

“I’m going.” Tora grumbled. She glanced over at him for a moment, before returning her attention to what she was doing, saying,

“Alright.”

Alright? That was it? He felt an incredible sense of annoyance at that reaction as he curled his hands into a fist, restraining the urge to sit her down and question her about what the fuck just happened between the two of them and where he even stood at this point. He stalked over to the door, throwing it open and shutting it behind him a lot more abruptly than she was prepared for. 

Poppy jumped at the slam of the door, breathing a quick,

“What the fuck?”

*****

Tora was ready to fight the first person that he came across that pissed him off as he stalked into the lobby of the hotel. He knew he should keep walking out the door and back to his apartment, but the minute he saw that orange Lamborghini, everything inside of him zoned in on Kenji, who leaned against his Lamborghini in his sharply tailored designer suit, dark locks tucked behind his ears, brushing his shoulders as he glanced down as his phone.

“Ya’d better have a good fuckin’ reason for taking her to Saito’s.” Tora growled at him, that dangerously calm ease lowering his voice an octave when he spoke to Kenji, who glanced up from his phone.

“I see you’re still in the way.” Kenji sighed, tucking his phone in his pocket. Tora scoffed at that statement.

“What were ya thinking? Did you think she wouldn’t--”

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion.” Kenji cut him off. “And if Poppylan knew that you were butting into her business, trying to get in the way of her finding what she’s looking for, then whatever it is that the two of you have going on will be over.”

“Ya treading in dangerous waters.” Tora took a step forward, standing just a little taller, gritting his teeth.

“I’m just about done with your threats. I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re talking to, but you’ve got it wrong if you think you can keep approaching me like this. If you want a clan war, keep it up, and I’ll burn your fucking clan to the ground.” Kenji’s voice was low, menacing, and Tora could tell that he had pushed him about as far as he could at this point.

“Is there a problem here?” Poppy’s voice was on edge as she approached the car, seeing the two of them at odds with one another.

“No.” Kenji smiled at her. “Tora was just leaving.”

Tora glared at him, then back at her before turning on his heel and stalking off. Kenji went around to the passenger’s side of the car, opening the door for her as she slid into the car. 

Tora stopped, turning to look back at her as Kenji got into the car with her. He hated the fact that she looked like she belonged with him. That if anyone were to see the two of them together, no one would even dare question the validity of their relationship. What’s more, he hated seeing those beautiful lips that had just been his, curving up into a smile at something he had said. He wanted to kill him; wanted him to suffer, but he knew that if he ever did that, he’d lose her.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, viciously jabbing through his contacts before putting the phone up to his ear. The gentle humming of the ring tone sounding in his ear before that familiar voice answered with a simple and abrupt,

“Vincent.”

*****

“There’s something I need to do before we head in.” Kenji told her. They were stopped outside of an upscale lounge in the valet line.

She arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips as he reached into the console, producing a Cartier box and flipping the lid open. Poppy’s heart fluttered at the sight of the box in his fingers, and she chastised herself inwardly for being so ridiculous. Situated in the black velvet inside of the signature red box was a five carat oval halo engagement ring situated on a platinum band.

“Poppylan. I’ve known you all of two days, and I can’t imagine the next few weeks of my life without you in it. Will you be my fiancé over the course of those few weeks?” he asked her. Poppy almost laughed at how ridiculous all of this was, but the point of all of this was to have a more permanent semblance when they walked in, and what better way to do that than with a giant engagement ring and a believable lie.

“Jesus Christ, do I really have to be a part of this?” she heard Jiro’s voice grumble in her ear over the virtually undetectable earpiece. Both she and Kenji smirked at that, and Poppy sighed wistfully,

“There’s nothing that I would love more than to be your fake fiancé for the next few weeks.”

“Gag me with a spoon.” Jiro muttered.

Kenji took her hand gently and slid the ring on her finger.

So, this is what it feels like. She doubted she would ever really have a chance to experience this moment in her lifetime. If she was being honest with herself, she knew she would probably be dead before that happened. She looked down at the ring, the diamond glittering relentlessly and very, very noticeably in the dim lighting.

“Wow.” she whispered incredulously, wriggling her fingers. Kenji glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye, smiling a little at her reaction to the ring as they pulled up to the Cherry Blossom Lounge and the valet opened their doors for them. Kenji headed around the car to the passenger’s side, reaching his hand out to take her as she slid her knees around, setting her feet on the ground. He laced his fingers in hers, kissing the top of her hand as they strolled up to the bouncer at the door, who barely gave them a second glance before stepping out of the way to allow them to enter the building.

“If you can hear me, turn your head to the right.” Jiro quietly said into the ear piece. Kenji pointed to a fountain to the right of the room and both Poppy and Kenji looked to the right, commenting on the beauty of the massive white marble fountain which flowed from a slat in the wall down an enormous golden Aphrodite structure. Poppy truly hadn’t had a chance to take in the scenery of the room which was more than stunning:

Several cherry blossom trees in full bloom lined the outside of the lounge. In the middle, a large white marble bar with pink uplighting took up a massive amount of space, decked out with golden bar chairs with white leather seats.A large white set of shelves loomed nearly twelve feet in the air, all stylistically covered with liquor bottles and pink uplighting, a pink rose vine in full bloom snaking its way through the shelving dark wooden. The floor was a type of turf, soft on their feet as they handed their shoes to the attendant at the front of the room, who supplied the two of them with velvet slippers. Between the trees and situated around the bar were glass tables and high acrylic barstools, strategically placed so they didn’t take away from the living magnificence of the Cherry Blossom Lounge and it’s living walls. Here and there around the room, the slight trickle of gentle waterfalls trickled into tiny ponds, creating an ethereal, sensual atmosphere.

Kenji put his hand on her lower back, guiding her to a seat, his fingers lingering a bit too long after she was seated, tips touching the nape of her neck as he made his way around the table and sat down in front of her, holding his hand up without taking his eyes off of her as the waitress came around, bowing to him and quietly greeting him,

“Mr. Sugiyama. It is my pleasure to serve you.”

Her voice was low and rich, and it took Poppy a moment to tear her gaze away from Kenji long enough to really look at her, and her mouth nearly dropped open at the sight of her: she was a gem of a woman from her emerald green eyes to her full lips and flawlessly soft skin. The pink kimono that hugged her body told the story of her soft curves and devastatingly fit body. She was submissive, keeping her gaze low to avoid confrontation. Her hands rested gently in front of her body, holding a small golden pen and notebook ready to take their order.

“Sara. It’s lovely to see you again.” Kenji purred, finally drawing his eyes to the lovely blonde in front of him. Poppy studied him carefully for those tell-tale signs of attraction, but saw only polite conversation in his dead eyes. “May I introduce you to my soon-to-be bride, Poppylan?”

He gestured to Poppy, and Sara turned to her, bowing low and saying,

“It is a great honor to meet the bride of Kenji Sugiyama. You are as stunning as he is kind.”

Poppy wanted to ask her how she even knew what she looked like if Sara couldn’t be bothered to look at her, but decided against the comment.

“Charmed.” Poppy smiled gently. Kenji looked at her out of the corner of his eye, a sexy little smirk playing on his lips as he nodded to Sara, ordering,

“We will take a cherry blossom martini to start off.”

“Very good, sir.” Sara bowed and floated off to go put the orders into the bar. As Poppy watched Sara, she felt the heat of several others gazing in her direction, those same whispers and curious conversations that she pretended not to listen to as the ones at the gala.

“Can you blame them?” Kenji asked her. She glanced up from the table and back into his eyes, giving him a quizzical look. “Poppylan, you’re stunning. Take a good hard look in the mirror sometime. I am the envy of every man in this room, and you the envy of every woman in this room tonight.”

She felt herself burning a vicious shade of scarlet at that compliment as she steeled herself from the compliment’s sincerity, not used to hearing compliments for any other reason than to get something from someone or for someone to get something from her. She searched her mind for the correct words before Kenji chuckled a low, rich sound,

“I believe the phrase you’re searching for is ‘thank you.’”

“Thank you.” she quickly reiterated, and thankfully, Sara arrived with the drinks in time to save her from further making a fool of herself. 

“He’s putting on an act.” she reminded herself, trying to push back those strong emotions that she had been feeling. “He doesn’t really mean what he’s saying. This is what he does. What he’s good at. Remember that, Poppylan. Remember that.”

She gulped down the martini a little more quickly than she intended to, and Sara returned, as if on cue, with another martini and a tiny linen napkin with cherry blossom petals stitched on it to go along with it. She lifted her glass to her lips to drink, when she saw a tiny piece of paper hanging out of the cloth. Taking a tiny sip, she reached down, lifting up the napkin to dab her lips and maneuvering the paper out of it without drawing attention to herself, before setting the napkin and drink back down, and folding her hands in her lap.

Kenji seemed preoccupied with something going on behind Poppy, his gaze unreadable, but she recognized that spark of anger in his eyes. Taking advantage of his distraction, she looked down at the little piece of paper, unfolding it to read:

You’re doing wonderful, Miss Poppylan. Please do not be nervous with Mr. Sugiyama. He is a good man. Don’t worry. If you need anything from me, simply tug your ear, and I will steal you away for a moment.

\--Sara

Poppy glanced carefully over at Sara, who stood in the corner of the room with the other waitresses behind one of the trees, watching their tables carefully and moving when the time was right to refill glasses or when they were summoned. Then, she turned her attention back to Kenji, who still sat frozen, nostrils now flared. Poppy glanced over her shoulder, turning to see several men in dark suits crowding at the doorway. Among them was an older gentleman with bright blonde hair, who had an uncanny resemblance to the dandy she had tea with. All of the others in pressed dark suits, white shirts, and black ties seemed to crowd around him; that signature black swirl of the Balthuman clan on each of their necks designating them from all of the other men who inhabited the bar. To be fair, had they not had the tattoo, it may have been hard to tell the difference between them and the other patrons.

The older gentleman turned his bright blue eyes to the man standing beside him, a bright smile on his face, as he clasped his shoulder, shaking his hand with a proud ease. Poppy moved her head around, trying to get a view of the man that the older gentleman was speaking to, but an annoying pest of a pink haired boy was blocking the way. After what seemed like an eternity, the boy moved out of the way, and Poppy felt the flames of anger licking at the surface of her body: Tora.

Tora gave a forced smile as the older man continued to shake his hand, the other men surrounding them patting him on the back in a congratulatory fashion.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Poppy thought to herself heatedly. As if feeling that anger, Tora turned to look at her, locking eyes with her, those deep golden eyes peering into her soul and she felt her body nearly melt into the seat when he looked at her, seeing that same dark lust in his eyes that she had seen the night before. Heat pooled into her stomach, her face contorting into an angry sneer before she felt a hand on hers, and Tora’s brows furrowed into an angry glare at the sight of that.

Poppy turned around, and Kenji leaned forward across the table, prompting Poppy to do the same. His put his lips to her ear, and he whispered,

“Don’t let him distract you, or it will blow this whole thing for both of us.”

Poppy nodded, hearing the seats behind her being pulled out because, naturally, the Balthuman clan had chosen to sit just behind their table. Poppy stiffened, smelling that familiar cologne passing just behind her. Kenji let out an irritated sigh and held his hand up to summon Sara, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“May we please procure a private room with you?” he smiled at her.

“With her?” Poppy inquired a little more harshly than she intended to. Sara winced at the accusatory tone in her voice, but Kenji simply smiled, informing Poppy,

“It’s customary for the hostesses to accompany us to the private rooms. They will enter them if desired, but mainly stand outside for requests should we need them.”

Poppy was just about to respond, when she heard someone behind her yell to everyone at their table,

“Yo, shut the fuck up! Boss is talking!”

Boss.

Vincent Balthuman was in the room with her. Not only that. He was sitting only a few feet away from her.

“Thank you for that--introduction, Brian.” Vincent grumbled, an agitated tone in his voice. “Tonight marks a momentous occasion for the Balthumans as one of our own has ascended to second in command.”

Poppy felt her hands curling into fists as she listened to Vincent speaking.

“What the fuck have you done, Tora?” she growled to herself.

“I know all of you recognize the hard work and dedication that this young man has put into our esteemed organization. So, if you would please, put your glasses up for our new commander, and drink to the health and long life of Tora.” Vincent’s voice held a delightful grin in it as he spoke and the room fell silent long enough for each of the men to take a drink. 

Commander. That fucker rose in the ranks to commander? What the hell was he thinking? She felt her blood boiling, desperately wanting to leap across the chair and strangle him for his stupidity; to question why the hell he would dig himself an even deeper hole than he already had. Just as she had finished going over the assault in her head, Sara reappeared, bowing again and saying,

“Your rooms are ready, Mr. Sugiyama.”

“Excellent.” Kenji smiled, downing the rest of his martini as he dabbed his mouth, stood up, and reached his hand out to Poppy. Poppy smiled gently, taking Kenji’s hand and following him and Sara toward a curtain of thornless roses. Suddenly, Kenji froze in the center of the room, and Sara paused, turning back around and asking,

“Is everything alright, sir?”

“No.” Kenji sighed. “No, this won’t do. I can’t have my beautiful wife-to-be overshadowed by that clan.”

Without warning, he pulled her close, fingers tracing along her jawline, the pad of his thumb touching her bottom lip. Gazing into his eyes she saw unbridled passion and lust. Being in his arms, she felt security and trust, and she allowed herself to sink into him as he turned her, dipped her down, and lowered his lips onto hers. She reached up, touching his face, leaning into the kiss as his hands moved to her lower back, pulling her even closer to his body where she could feel that his passion wasn’t entirely a ruse. All around them, delighted and shocked murmurs floated from the tables as he sat her back up, breaking the kiss, before he took her left hand, brought it to his lips, and escorted her toward Sara, who took them through the curtain of roses.

***

The look on Kenji’s face when Tora entered the lounge pleased him enough to last him for the next millennium; that look of anger and shock and pure frustration. He lived for that shit, and loved it more than he cared to admit, but that fleeting feeling of a job well done was quickly dashed as Poppylan turned around. He tried to ignore her, but found the gravity of her gaze far too much to bear, and he glanced over at her, his gaze locking on hers.

It all came rushing back to him in a tidal wave of emotions, his skin burning from her touch, lips tingling from her kisses. If he ever lost his sense of hearing, he knew he’d never need to hear another sound as long as he lived because those moans of passion and whispers in the dark were enough for him for the rest of his life. He was completely enraptured by her, body and soul, after just a few days around her. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. No task that was too big for her. No life too precious to take for her, and now that he’d had her. Well, now that he’d had her, that sealed the deal for him.

So when he saw that look of pure unshackled anger on her face. When he saw that bastard reach for her hand. When he saw that fucker whisper something into her ear, and saw the corners of her mouth turn up into a grin, all he wanted to do was rip him apart piece by piece.

He made it a point to sit close to her, to feel that pressure radiating off of him and know that he was there because he wanted her to know who wanted her. He wanted her to feel that same frustration that he was feeling, and when Vincent made his stupid ass speech, he hoped it would be enough for her to know that he was worthy of her now. That there was no limit that he couldn’t reach now because of who he was. 

He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t taste the strong strawberry flavored cocktail in his glass even after years of swearing off alcohol. He couldn’t hear the conversations going on around him, just this incessant roaring in his ears, the smell of her perfume wafting toward him. He felt unhinged, and he hated it. He turned, just slightly, seeing her moving past him as Kenji guided her to the center of the room, knowing they were heading to the private rooms, when suddenly he saw the two of them stop.

He turned his attention fully on them as most of the people in the room had done, and when Kenji turned her, dipping her down. He leaned down slowly, and Tora felt his rage awakening in his body, but what nearly did him in was the fact that that fucker had the nerve to look him right in his fucking eyes as he leaned down to kiss her. He WANTED Tora to see this, planned for it, and took special pleasure in the emotional battle going on in Tora’s head. Yes, he looked at him, the sides of his mouth curling up, showing he was delighting in Tora’s anger. And that’s when he saw it--that massive fucking engagement ring on her finger, glittering in the light of the lounge, nearly fucking blinding him. He had given her an engagement ring, which she clearly had accepted from him, and when Kenji pulled her back to a standing position, noticing Tora’s attention was on the ring, he took that very same hand that the ring was on and planted a dashing kiss on it.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Tora seethed to Vincent, who glanced over at him with a wicked smile.

“I look forward to it.” Vincent purred.


	10. Into the Lion’s Den

Beyond the curtain of roses was a mahogany staircase that was lined with bronze lanterns and candlelight. Kenji held out his arm to guide Poppy down the stairs, making sure she didn’t topple down them in those ridiculously high heels. As they descended, Poppy noticed the walls changing texture from the lovely white caustic walls with golden iridescence to them to a natural stone. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the gentle sound of a whispering music being played, gentle trickles of waterfall and the fragrance of rose beckoning her further into the caverns.

When they finally reached the bottom, she saw a long wooden catwalk like decking stretching, what seemed like, forever in the caverns, lined with gauzy white and pink curtains, intricate windowless doors behind them situated in the caverns.

“Before the lounge was built,” Sara began, her voice soothing and quiet as they walked together through the dimly lit cavern, “this functioned as an escape room for political dissenters. The owner of the tavern, or so it used to be, harbored the accused down here just behind a wall of whiskey barrels that had a secret hinge on it.”

“I remember hearing stories about this.” Jiro mentioned in her ear. “These caverns and tunnels have been around since Shogun times. When the shogun were formally outlawed in Narin City, this was their hideouts. I heard that all of these areas had been destroyed.”

Poppy glanced around the room, golden candlelight flickering on the walls from sconces and hanging from lanterns on the ceiling. The unmistakable smell of hookah smoke tinged with marijuana floated throughout the caverns, the sound of little tinkling bells ringing out every now and then.

“Here, you are safe.” Sara told them, stopping before a room and gesturing toward the door. “Here, you may live out the fantasies that others have told you are not acceptable.”

“Be careful not to breathe in too much of the smoke.” Jiro told them in a low tone. “There are hallucinogens in the hookah. It’s meant to serve as a relaxant and make you a little more malleable.”

Kenji opened the door to the room, and gestured for Poppy to go inside, which she gladly did. She felt like she had been transported to some Moroccan paradise with gentle flickering candles in various sized lanterns on the floor and on the little log bench with intricately carved detail on it. A low bed with cream lace blankets and an invitingly soft mink throw beckoned them to lie on the bed and indulge themselves in the mysterious, the seductive, and the illicit. Piles of fluffy pillows lined the wooden headboard and a small natural bath sat in the corner of the room, red rose petals floating on the water. On a little silver tray next to the bath sat oils of various types, little boxes filled with knickknacks, powders, pills, and various substances waited to be used.

“Should you need me,” Sara gently told them, backing out of the room, “simply tug on this, and I will enter the room.”

She gestured to a macrame rope hanging near the door and bowed before leaving the room. Kenji put his hands in his pockets, turning to face Poppy, who simply stared back at him.

“Saito’s quarters are just beyond the door at the end of the hall.” Kenji quietly explained. Poppy nodded at him, sitting down on the bed before asking,

“Do you want to explain what the hell that was all about upstairs?”

Kenji stilled, his mouth parting slightly, caught off guard by the question. That mask of certainty slipped out of place for a moment before he caught himself, that cool impassive expression returning.

“I needed them to believe we were engaged.” He explained.

“And you don’t think we did a good enough job of that at the table or when we entered the building?” She arched an eyebrow at him.

“With the way you reacted to me, I didn’t realize it bothered you that much.” He shrugged, almost a little offended by her accusations.

“Whether or not I wanted it is not the point here.” Poppy told him. “The point is you didn’t give me a choice. When you kissed me, you forced my hand. I had to kiss you or risk fucking this whole thing up.”

His eyes gleamed with a strange emotion that she wasn’t quite familiar with. He put his hand over his mouth, turning away from her, and then back toward her, putting his hands in his pocket.

“My apologies.” He cleared his throat. She could tell it took him a lot to work up the nerve to apologize. She was also certain that no woman had ever had an issue with his affections before, and wading through the brutal waters of rejection was no easy task.

“Understand me when I say that I have felt like I didn’t have a choice for longer than I can remember. I refuse to let anyone else make me feel like that again, particularly someone I barely know.” Poppy’s voice cut into him, the vicious slice of a knife against the tranquility of their relationship.

“Understood.” Kenji muttered, a hollowness engulfing him. For a moment, a thick silence fell between the two of them before Jiro cleared his throat, saying,

“There are no cameras down in the taverns. The closest thing I can get is the cell phones in the area. I’m virtually blind to what’s going on where you are.”

This was something Kenji had not planned for. He was nearly certain there would be some sort of high tech security system with Saito being so close to so many strangers.

“Brute force seems to be the security of choice for Saito.” Jiro explained. “These guys are world class fighters. Most are ex-military.”

“Fuck.” Kenji seethed. “Are there exits down here?” 

“The only other exit present, aside from the lounge exits upstairs, is through Saito’s quarters if the old maps of similar cavern/tunnel structures are to be believed.” Jiro told them. Poppy’s eyes darkened, that frigidity returning to her as she seethed,

“I’m going to guess you didn’t do your research.”

“Did you?” He shot back. Fair. That was fair, but she needed to get the fuck out before Saito caught on to the fact that she was even there. Outside threats were not something that Saito took kindly to. 

“There’s a lot of radio chatter going on with the security detail right now. A lot of codes being used.” Jiro told her, and she felt a momentary surge of panic overwhelm her. Poppy pulled herself together, and she gently opened the door, seeing Sara standing there, alarmed at the door suddenly opening.

“I’m sorry, Sara.” Poppy smoothly apologized. “Something has come up, and we—“

Across the hallway from her, in a room with a raven haired beauty who sat on her knees in the submissive position, she caught sight of that familiar long black hair. Those tattoos that she had traced with her fingers in the early morning hours on that broad back of his facing away from her. As if sensing her, he turned to look over his shoulder, those golden eyes passively staring out at her from the golden warmth of his room.

“Shit.” Jiro hissed into the mic. “Shit!”

Poppy felt her heart rate increase at the sound of panic in his voice, her jaw setting, eyes widening a fraction. Tora fully turned his attention to her, realizing that panic in her eyes, as she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, four armed guards heading her way. Sara glanced down the hall and then back at Poppy, her eyes wide as she turned toward her, saying,

“Don’t run. Don’t speak to them. Just do what they say.” 

Tora’s nostrils flared in a mix of anger and worry, and Poppy simply shook her head, and then glanced over at Sara, who squeezed her hand in an attempt to comfort her, but the cold terror snaking its way through her blood overtook any warmth she might have felt from the kind gesture. Poppy’s eyes flicked toward the entrance, and Sara tightened her grip, hissing,

“Don’t. You won’t make it.” 

Upon realizing that Poppy had been at the door longer than he thought she’d be, Kenji glanced in her direction and, seeing her frozen there, realized something was terribly wrong. The four guards arrived quietly before her without much bravado. The one of them held a zip tie in his hands and she held her wrists out without a struggle. 

“We are taking you to see Saito.” The guard who zip tied her explained. “When we guide you into the room, do not speak unless spoken to. Don’t look at her unless she requests your attention specifically.”

Poppy bit back the urge to spit out a rude remark, but instead, turned her attention to Kenji with a slight shrug of the shoulder.

“Fuck.” Kenji hissed, his eyes wildly darting back and forth as the armed guards yanked Poppy out of the room, pushing her down the catwalk in front of them.

“Jiro.” Kenji muttered, anxiety laced in his voice.

“I’m working on it.” Kenji could hear the keys of Jiro’s keyboard clicking and tapping about a million miles a minute as he searched for something—anything to get her out of the mess she was in. 

Tora stormed across the hall, grabbing Kenji by the neck and hoisting him into the air.

“What the fuck did you do?” Tora snarled, squeezing that trachea as Kenji fumbled for his weapon.

“Don’t.” Sara stepped in between the two of them, touching Tora gently on the arm. “This won’t help anything. If you must take revenge, do it when there isn’t so much at stake.”

Tora glanced over at her, before sneering back at Kenji and dropping him to the ground in a heap of designer clothing as he coughed, getting to his feet, and shrugging off the assault.

“There’s nothing I can do.” Jiro sighed. “Apart from an assault, which you guys are highly unprepared for, the best we can do is wait.”

*****

Poppylan entered Saito’s chambers and was surprised to see a younger woman, maybe in her thirties, sitting in front of a vanity, lighting incense. Her deep brown hair fell down her back very nearly to her seat, deep black eyes serene beneath thick lashes and bold eyebrows, a slinky satin golden night dress flowing down her sinewy body to the floor. She put the incense down on the shrine near the vanity, a golden dragon plate creating a gentle haze of sweet smoke in the room.

A large cream colored satin bed sat against the back wall, an intricately carved rose headboard above the bed itself. Next to the bed, perfumes and various trinket boxes sat, waiting to be utilized. Three large imperial chests set on either side of the cavern walls.

Sakura placed two small ceramic cups down, each with intricate paintings of cherry blossoms. Then, she took a small sake takkuri, gently supporting the bottom of the decanter, and poured the sake into the two cups.

“My family has always relied on the traditions that were handed down to us from our shogun ancestors.” Saito explained. “Although times have changed, I believe that the traditions of the past are what keep us rooted in our present.”

Saito gestured to the sake glass and Poppy picked it up, tipping the contents back into her mouth and swallowing them, gently placing the glass back onto the little wooden table. Sakura sat quietly for a moment, her eyes closed, before she reopened them, two dead black eyes staring into Poppy’s.

“You’ve invaded my sacred temple with your lies and your deceit.” She told her. “This is a place of safety; of security, and you bring threats into our midst.”

“That was not my intention.” Poppy felt incredibly on edge around this woman as she spoke to her.

“Careful, Poppy. She’s your superior at this moment. Interrupting her or challenging her could be fatal.” Jiro told her in a low mumble.

“Was your intention to force me to give you information?” Saito looked her straight in her eyes. Poppy thought long and hard about her answer before she quietly admitted,

“It was.”

Saito nodded, seemingly approving of her answer,

“Honesty. It is too rare a trait. But you cannot use brute force to win all of your battles.”

Gracefully, Saito stood, and Poppy stood with her, keeping a few steps behind.

“Explain why you’ve brought three rival clans into my midst.” Saito demanded, not bothering to face Poppy as she spoke, stopping to tidy one of her shrines and bow to it.

“Tora and Kenji are my accomplices. They’re trying to help me locate a flash drive which has made its way here to Narin City for reasons unknown.” Poppy explained.

“Black market exposure.” Saito answered. “What’s on it?”

“The contents of a notebook that’s long since been lost.” Poppy told her.

“You knew about Goliath’s notebook.” Jiro’s realization hit hard as he came to terms with the dangerous material that was out in the underworld somewhere.

Saito stepped forward, her voice barely above a whisper,

“And you thought you’d just walk in here and—make me give you the whereabouts of it just because of who you are.”

Poppy stiffened at that, her chin raising indignantly as she averted her eyes respectfully despite the fact that she wanted to utterly destroy Saito.

“That’s right. I know you’re a Cafaro-Beneventi.” Saito seethed. “And I don’t care whether you’re god himself. You have the nerve to come into my house with your friends and your trouble and your arrogance.”

Poppy felt a sharp stab just below her belly button. She grunted, looking down to see a blade shoved into her stomach, it’s jeweled golden handle protruding from the wound.

“There’s a name etched into the blade.” Saito told her, turning away from Poppy, who stood completely still, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing her in pain. “If you make it out of here, and you’re still alive in the morning, find that person, and if he deems you worthy enough to spare you his valuable time, you may find the answers you’re looking for.”

“Blade? Poppylan? Are you alright?” The panic in his voice was more than evident now as the typing on Jiro’s keyboard intensified. Poppy clenched her fists, turning to head out to back exit when Saito put her hand up,

“No. You’ll go out the way you came. I want them to know.”

But Poppy wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of creating a spectacle despite the metallic taste of blood rising in her mouth. She straightened and with wobbling legs walked toward the door, adjusting her stride to walk as well as she could. She stopped at the door, casting a vicious glance over her shoulder at Saito, who watched her carefully, and ripped the decorative curtain from the wall, creating a shawl around her body to hide the blade.

It took every ounce of willpower that Poppylan had to walk out of that room with her head held high. The blade in his stomach was one of the most agonizing things she’d ever felt in her life, but she forced herself to clench her jaw and put one foot in front of the other.

“Answer me, Poppy.” Jiro demanded. In a barely discernible voice, she uttered the words,

“Blade. Stomach. Don’t. Tell. Kenji.”

At the sound of the door, Tora and Kenji strode around the corner, hesitantly approaching her, and as they tried to speak, she put a hand up.

“Your bag.” Kenji quietly told her, holding out her clutch to her. Poppy froze, steeling herself as she looked at Kenji, and carefully held out her hand to retrieve the bag.

“What’s wrong?” Tora couldn’t hide the suspicion in his voice.

“You need to move.” Jiro urged her, and Kenji’s attention snapped to her.

“Why do you need to move?” Kenji stepped in her way as she started to move. Poppy glared you at him, using every last bit of strength to grab his shirt, the blade shifting in her stomach as she did so, and growl,

“Get. The fuck. Out of my way.”

Before releasing and walking past him, Kenji froze in the hallway as Tora shouldered past him, keeping a respectful distance behind Poppy, but letting her know he was there. The world danced, hazy lightning bugs twinkled just outside of her peripheral vision as she took one agonizing step after another back up the stairs.

“Stairs.” She grunted. “Stairs.”

“One at a time. You need to focus. Count them aloud. I’m here with you.” Jiro told her. Poppy heaved her foot up on the first step, her breath nearly hacking,

“One.”

“Good. Keep going, Poppy.” Jiro encouraged her. “Keep talking. Stay awake.”

“Two.” She breathed, taking them as quickly as her legs would allow. Behind her, she felt a pair of hands support her back, that familiar, dizzying scent of cologne washing over her senses. He didn’t ask, and she didn’t tell as she continued the long journey up the stairs.

“Twelve.” She breathed at last. Tora had backed off on the last two stairs so as not to draw any unwanted attention to her or to himself as she sat up a little straighter, that haughtiness returning. She strode with a gentle ease through the lounge, pausing to pay her tab at the bar even, scrounging up every ounce of discipline and self-control she had in her to make it through the anguish before she strode out the door, Tora at a respectable pace behind her. She stood at the valet line, where Tora appeared beside her, summoning his red sports car. She clenched her jaw, the minutes feeling like a lifetime before the car finally arrived and he opened the door for her.

It was at this moment she realized she was going to have to fold in on herself, allowing the knife to do more damage inwardly, and she hesitated only a moment, putting a hand on the top of the car and sliding in at an awkward angle to avoid doing too much damage.

Tora slid into the car, and in her ear, Jiro’s voice was low and calm,

“Are you somewhere safe?”

“I’m safe.” She replied, and Tora glanced over at her in question for a moment before squinting toward her ear, his unspoken question answered.

“Get to the Takahashi residence quickly. You’re on borrowed time.” He ordered her.

“Tora—Takahashi residence.” She told him, and he stepped on the gas. She leaned back, closing her eyes, taking deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth, and Tora, for his part, did his best not to drive like an absolute maniac.

*****

Kenji wasted no time stalking down the wooden catwalk into Saito’s room, where she sat at her vanity. Seeing him enter the room, Saito’s mouth curved into a wicked grin.

“What did you do?” Kenji knew he was treading on dangerous grounds, but he was so enraged at this point that he could barely keep himself from strangling her.

“Hello to you too, my very favorite patron.” She purred, rising from the chair, the slinky straps of her silky golden gown dropping down off of her shoulders.

“Answer me!” He roared at her. Her smile dropped instantly from her face, and she turned to face him, nostrils flaring.

“You would be wise to remember to whom you are speaking.” She said very slowly, deliberately. “I gave her what she deserved: a knife to the front because unlike her disgraceful clan, I have enough honor not to stab her in the back.”

“What were you thinking? You’re going to destroy every clan in this city.” Kenji hissed at her. She walked forward, sliding her left hand around his waist, her right hand reaching up and brushing his hair to the side. He stiffened, looking away from her.

“It wasn’t a fatal blow, but it was enough to cripple her for the time being—to put her in her place.” She spat. “You should’ve known better than to bring anyone here—especially a woman like that.” 

He grabbed her wrist, looking down at her face, and spat,

“A woman like what?”

He very nearly spat the word ‘what’ in her face, the buckles of restraint wearing thin. Saito paused for a moment, squinting, before a delicious grin spread across her face.

“Oh no.” She giggled before bursting into a full on laugh. “Oh this is too good. You like her.”

He glared down into her eyes impassively, leaning toward her as she brushed her fingers across his cheek and his mouth, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response.

“Well, now I have to kill her.” She laughed, yanking her hand away and floating past him, frowning at the curtain rod that had snapped from the force of Poppy’s pull.

“I think you’ve done enough.” Kenji told her, turning to face her, crossing his arms. “Now, I have to not only do damage control but try to convince her that this isn’t what I wanted to happen.”

“Why?” Saito shrugged. “There’s no need for that. You don’t have anything to prove to her.”

“I have everything to prove to her.” His cold calmness had returned as he moved his hands to his pockets, but Saito was no fool; beneath that cold exterior was a tenderness that he had never shown anyone before: a tenderness that was meant to be hers and hers alone. 

Saito glared at him, as he turned to leave the room, having said and heard everything he needed to.

“You belong to me.” Saito growled, that feral sense of possession very nearly taking over her senses.

Kenji paused and scoffed, looking over his shoulder at her, quietly telling her,

“I don’t belong to anyone. Least of all you.”

And then he walked out the door.

*****

The red sports car had nearly been pushed to the limit when they got to the Takahashi residence in record time, Tora silent as he allowed her to focus on her breathing, knowing damned good and well that something was seriously wrong and as much as he wanted her to tell him, he knew she needed that time to focus on getting through whatever it was.

Jiro was out the door in a flash, a little surprised to see Tora was the one escorting her. He eyed Tora for a moment, as he gingerly helped her out of the car, Tora following behind like a shadow as they rushed into the sitting room where a group of people were waiting, masks and surgical equipment at the ready, a table draped with a white cloth and bright lights situated over the table, hair tied back and under caps. It was at this point that Tora froze in place, overwhelmed by the scene laid out in front of him, watching in horror as Jiro led her to the table, carefully helping her to lie back.

Gingerly, he pulled the makeshift shawl back, and Tora’s eyes widened in horror at the sight. He moved forward, pushing through the throng of people who were scurrying around to look at the damage that Saito and Kenji had done—that golden dagger sticking out of her body as she lay there quietly, looking straight up, focusing on her breathing.

Tora felt an overwhelming need to be in a thousand different places at once: to find Saito and repay the favor; to find Kenji and put that motherfucker down; to push everyone in the room back because every time they touched her and prodded at her, she winced in pain. It had been a while since all of his senses were on high alert, and he knew he needed to calm down. So, he did the only thing he knew to do at the time: he took her hand, and when he did, she winced a little, her sight turning to him as he leaned forward, brushing the straggling hairs out of her face.

“Sir, we need you to clear the room for this.” The surgeon gently told Tora, and he opened his mouth to protest when Poppy all but shouted,

“No!”

Everyone paused, turning to look at her. Even Tora hesitated, glancing down at her.

“No.” She said again. “He stays with me.”

A few of the surgeons exchanged glances with each other before turning to look at Jiro, who was leaning against the doorframe. Jiro nodded, and the flurry of surgical preparation began. Needles, and IVs, the endless beeping of an EKG, and tense whispers. The whoosh of oxygen and clatter of surgical tools. Tora looked down at her, seeing the sedative being injected into the bag, and when she looked up at him, he gently brushed her hand with his fingers, nodding down to her as her eyes fluttered and she drifted into a deep, comfortable sleep, the pain finally eased at last.

*****

If Tora had known exactly what Poppy had been hiding when she walked out of Saito’s private rooms, he probably would have scooped her up and took off at a dead sprint. Thinking back now, he felt his chest swell with pride at the ease at which she handled herself after being stabbed. For Christ’s sake, the woman paid her bar tab and walked up a flight of stairs with virtually no assistance. She was a certified badass as far as he was concerned.

Now, the only thing he could think of as he looked down at her, her lower body hidden by a blue sheet as they did investigative surgery and repaired as they needed to, is the fact that not only would be kill Kenji for taking her there in the first fucking place, but Saito was going down too. He knew that taking out Kenji wouldn’t cause much of a stir in the underworld, but Saito—handling the matter of her death would be much more complicated, and he knew for a fact that pitching it to Vincent would be even more difficult because he worked very closely with Saito.

He massaged his temples with his left hand, deep in thought, his right hand still holding on to Poppylan’s hand as they took the blue sheet down, wiping down the surfaces around her, and cleaning up their area. The steady beeping of the EKG reminded him, though, that right now, he was where he was needed.


	11. Punishment

“Tora.” His name was a low hum from the darkness behind him. Tora glanced over his shoulder, seeing Jiro leaning against the doorframe, his face a shade of blue in the early morning light. He turned his attention back to Poppy, who slept peacefully now in a bed, her breath even, the EKG a steady pace. They hadn’t had to do too much to repair the internal bleeding. All things considered, Saito hadn’t intended on killing her, but rather, sending a message. Even so, this wound would be enough to slow the process of finding the flash drive down significantly.

Tora’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he looked down at the screen, Vincent’s name glaring at him. He opened the message and read:

“We need to discuss Saito and Sugiyama.”

News, it seems, had traveled fast to Balthuman, despite the fact that there were very few people that knew about this. He had a feeling that Takahashi had looped Vincent into what was going on with his clan captain suddenly involved in this entire mess of a business when he showed up at his doorstep with a bloodied Cafaro-Beneventi heiress. Needless to say, it didn’t look good for him.

“On my way.” Tora responded. He glanced over his shoulder at Jiro, who stared at him darkly.

“Let me know when she wakes up.” Tora barked at him, passing by him as he spoke. Jiro simply stared at him, neither issuing him a confirmation or a denial, and Tora froze at the lack of response.

“Why would I tell you?” Jiro growled. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re the one who did this to her or at least got her into this situation.”

Tora felt his hackles rise at that accusation, and he slowly turned over his shoulders, rising to his full height as he approached Jiro, a dark hulking shadow of aggression and intimidation stalking toward him. Jiro gave him a lazy glance and then looked away with a raise of eyebrows.

“Why the fuck would I bother to bring her here if I did this?” He seethed. “If I was gonna do something like this, I’d sure as hell make sure she didn’t make it out alive.”

It was a lie, and he knew it. There had been plenty of instances where Vincent asked him to kill, and he made the choice to wound instead, much to Vincent’s dismay, and then eventual delight.

“Why don’t you just come back when you’re done doing whatever it is that’s so important right now.” Jiro narrowed his eyes at Tora. Tora’s nostrils flared, and his hand flew out, snatching Jiro by the throat and slamming him into the doorframe.

“Keep fucking talking to me like that, and I’ll rip your jugular clean from ya body.” He barked, hauling Jiro, who flailed and clawed at him, up higher. “I’m gonna say this one more time: call me when Poppylan wakes up. Got it?”

Jiro nodded, his face turning a shade of purple, eyes rolling in his head.

“Good.” Tora growled, releasing Jiro, who fell into a useless heap on the ground, coughing and hacking, filling his lungs with that air he had been so deprived of, and stalking out the door without a second glance.

*****

“Do you mind telling me how the Cafaro-Beneventi girl ended up with a knife in her stomach, and YOU just so happened to be the one walking out with her?” Vincent’s patience was hanging on by a thread, that little vein in his forehead pulsing.

Tora leaned back against the couch in Vincent’s office coolly, crossing his arms, and sighing,

“I was with Karine. Poppylan and Sugiyama happened to be in the rooms across from us.”

“You’re still dabbling with the Russian girl?” Vincent raised an eyebrow at that, and Tora’s lips spread into a thin line. He didn’t like talking about Karine, the raven haired beauty who worked at the Cherry Blossom Lounge. “You didn’t go down there for Karine, did you?”

Tora looked away from Vincent, whose lips curled into a devious smile at that silent admission.

*****

Tora waited until the room had resumed its low roar of conversation. He glanced around his table, everyone seemingly unaffected by the obvious display of affection. He watched Vincent out of the corner of his eye, a slight smile on his lips as he sipped on his drink at the table, clearing his throat, and saying,

“If you’re waiting for my permission to go down to the rooms, go ahead and go.”

Vincent handed him a bill to tip the women down in the personal rooms, and Tora held up a hand, their hostess approaching them, sliding him a paper with each woman’s name on it. Tora selected Karine, then handed the paper back. The hostess looked at the paper, then bowed, reappearing after preparing everything and leading him down to the rooms.

“I want the room across from Sugiyama.” He told the hostess in a low tone, and she nodded silently in affirmation. Requests like these weren’t unusual, particularly for people who liked to share and trade off hostesses.

At the bottom of the stairs, Karine waited, her violet eyes glancing up at Tora, lashes low over her eyes, milky white skin giving her the appearance of a porcelain doll. A deep blue fur trimmed kimono settled gently over her slender body, inky hair long and straight by behind her.

The hostess bowed at the bottom of the stairs, instructing Karine which rooms to claim, and Karine bowed back, gesturing for Tora to follow her to the rooms. Tora glanced at the closed door and the blonde hostess who waited outside of the room respectfully before following Karine into the rooms.

Tora shrugged off his jacket and shirt, getting comfortable in the room as Karine took them, hanging them up on the hooks near the door and kneeling on the pillow in the center of the room.

“Cut the shit.” Tora sighed, and Karine arched an eyebrow, looking up at him deviously. She got off of her knees and headed over to the bed, plopping down and lying back against him.

“What is it this time?” She grinned, looking down at her nails, picking the dirt from beneath them.

“Do ya know the Cafaro-Beneventis?” He asked her.

“Who doesn’t?” She rolled her eyes.

“The heiress is in the room across from us.” He told Karine. She shot up off of him and whirled around to face him.

“What’s she doing here?” Karine’s eyes were wild with excitement, and Tora almost grinned at that.

“None of ya business.” He teased her, and her excitement turned into a scowl.

“What a tease!” She harrumphed. She eyed him up and down. “You know you could just be a normal human and go out and make friends instead of paying for them, don’t you?”

Tora had considered Karine to be a friend of his for a while. It was undeniable that they were both attracted to each other, but there was absolutely no chemistry between the two of them, though he’d be lying if he said they didn’t use each other every once in a while, the years of experience between them making for some particularly explosive fucking.

If he was being honest with himself, though, the only person he really wanted to fuck right now was Poppylan, and she was in a room with that fucker right now. The thought of him touching those places that he had claimed for himself, pressing his body against hers, marking her the way that he had marked her—it was enough to make him want to tear their door off its hinges and rip him to shreds in front of her. But jealousy wasn’t a good look on anyone, and the last thing that he needed was to look desperate in front of her.

“I could.” Tora agreed. “But then I’d have to actually make an effort to keep em.”

Karine grinned at that, nodding,

“No place for that in a captain’s life.”

He gave her a sharp look, and she pouted,

“Oh, come on. Did you think I wouldn’t know?”

“I don’t want to talk clan business.” He firmly told her, and she held her hands up in apology,

“I wasn’t trying to. Just congratulating you.”

A moment of silence passed between the two of them before she quietly said,

“Saito has been tracking Poppy’s moves for a while now. She already knew Poppy was coming.”

“Does she have an informant?” Tora inquired.

“She has a lot of informants. It’s hard to pinpoint just one.” Karine shrugged. “We were all specifically informed to tell her when Poppylan arrived at the Lounge.”

Tora glanced down at Karine, who had rested her head against his chest, absentmindedly stroking his arm.

“How long has there been rumblings about the Cafaro-Beneventis?” Tora asked her, hoping for more clarity.

“Ever since the drive went missing.” Karine told him, and his blood went cold. How many people knew about the drive? How many people were now looking for it in order to hold it captive or for ransom?

“A lot of people know about it.” Karine said, as if she could read his mind. “There’s been mumbling about a black market auction for a while. Most of the clan leaders have only received snippets of information about it. Whoever has it is doing a good job of hiding it.”

Tora pushed himself off of the bed, and Karine moved back to the pillow, her assigned position when the evening was over with. He opened the door to his room, then stalked back across the rooms to send a message on his phone to Vincent when he heard the door to Poppy’s room opened behind him, and he froze. He turned, eyes catching her own surprised eyes, and he saw her eyes flick down to the end of the hallway, before looking back at him, those eyes betraying a sense of panic, although her face was calm and collected.

******

“So. Saito has been keeping tabs on her for a while. Seems like she’s got a traitor in her midst.” Vincent purred, smoothing his hair back, the storm brewing beneath his simmering exterior. Tora grunted in agreement at that assessment. Vincent sighed a long heavy sigh, before collapsing into his chair, satisfied with the story that Tora had told—that he was keeping tabs on her as per Vincent’s orders; that he had been in the room with Karine; that him being there ended up just being a coincidence despite the rumors swirling around the underworld.

“There’s still the matter of your ascension.” Vincent told him, folding his hands in his lap. Tora glanced over at him impassively, though his insides stirred. When was the last time that he had an initiation? It had been years. He’s forgotten by now the rules of initiation, but he knew it wasn’t pleasant, and it usually involved something close to him to prove loyalty without a shadow of a doubt.

“I think I’ll give you what you want.” Vincent smiled, and Tora turned his attention to Vincent, arching a brow in question. “After all, you’ve been loyal to me—good to me, and I want to return the favor. You want to ascend to captain?”

Tora sat forward, his attention officially peaked, skin prickling in apprehension.

“Kill Sugiyama.” Vincent ordered him. Tora’s lips curled into a delighted smile, and he ran his tongue across his teeth. 

“With pleasure.” Tora purred.

*****

Poppy’s eyes fluttered open in the darkness of the bedroom. Outside of the French Doors that led to the balcony, thunder rumbled, a flash of lightning illuminating the room before plunging it back into darkness.

A sharp pain radiated from her stomach, followed by a soreness and a heat that let her know the stab wound was freshly stitched.

“Fuck.” She cursed, the flash of Saito stabbing her tearing through her mind, frustrated with herself for even allowing this to happen in the first place. She blinked a few times, swallowing against the pain. Carefully, she maneuvered herself into a sitting position, realizing she was hooked up to an IV and a heart rate monitor. For a moment she squeezed her eyes shut, opening them, and nearly having a heart attack at the slight flicker of movement in the shadows. She jerked, her stitches protesting against the movement, hissing at the pain as Kenji stepped into the moonlight, hands in his pockets, staring down at her.

“Kenji.” She breathed. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Kenji said nothing, simply glancing out the window, and then back to her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She growled, the animosity bubbling beneath the surface as she recalled how he had been the one who led her down into the rooms, right into Saito’s lair.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” His voice was quiet, remorseful.

“No thanks to you.” She spat. “I have to wonder, Kenji. You frequented that lounge enough. I find it hard to believe you had no idea that there were no other exits.”

Kenji stared at her as she put the pieces of the puzzle together in her head.

“Who do you go to see when you’re there?” Poppy asked him. She was in full attack mode at this point, that small amount of trust that she once had in Kenji completely gone as she felt him out, digging her claws into him and rooting around to try to find his weakness. Poppy nodded, knowing he wasn’t going to tell her and sighed. 

“Saito.” Kenji quietly told her. “My brother has been—working with her to try to restore some of our—good name. He offered her anything that she wanted: money, businesses, stocks, whatever she wants.”

“I’m going to guess she chose delicate blades with names inscripted on them.” Poppy dryly told him.

“No.” Kenji said, matter of factly. “She chose me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and terrible. He looked in her eyes, and Poppy felt her stomach sink.

“My brother was quick to agree.” He told her, shrugging.

“And you?” Poppy quietly inquired.

“It’s my family name.” He told her. “Everything that I am. All that I have once I’m dead and gone.”

“So you work for her?” Poppy’s heart sank. All the things they had planned together, everything she had told him came rushing back to her now.

“No.” The indignance in his voice made her raise her eyebrows at him in surprise. “No. Not in the way that you might be thinking.”

“And what way is that?” Poppy pressed.

“I don’t feed her information. That’s a hard line for me.I do things for her—run errands, find people, satiate her—needs.” He explained. 

“Like you have a choice.” Poppy scoffed.

“Actually, I do.” Kenji snapped. “I might be her fucking slave, but I’m still a person, and I do still decide what information to give her and what to withhold, punishments be damned.”

Punishments? Poppylan’s eyes flicked across his body and his face, wondering what sort of punishments he was referring to. She softened a little, knowing full well what it was like to be punished in all ways possible.

“Whatever she’s doing for you must be pretty incredible for you to sell yourself to her like that.” She quietly told him, and he stiffened at that phrase “sell yourself like that.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Poppy asked after a heartbeat.

“If I had, would you have gone with me?” He shot back. He knew the answer. “I didn’t plan for things to go the way they did. I wanted to go in there with you. I wanted to help you find what you were looking for. Saito—“

He started to pace, the words tumbling from his mouth in jagged apologetic lines.

“She wasn’t supposed to be there. I made sure of it. We were just supposed to go in, search the room—those hiding places that I knew well—and then we were supposed to leave.” He explained.

“What of the engagement ruse?” She asked, and he stopped pacing, turning to face her.

“What do you mean?” He pressed.

“It wasn’t about getting me into the lounge, was it?” She questioned, and he looked away from her. “You knew that when Saito found out you came into the lounge with your soon-to-be bride, she would be furious. But my question is...why? Why did you want to enrage her if you knew it would lead to punishment?”

He pressed his lips into a thin line, glaring at her as she crossed her arms, waiting for him to answer. She waited a moment longer, seeing his lips part, and as he opened his mouth to speak, the door swung open, a tall shadow lurking in the doorway.

“You.” She heard his voice growl, a low tone mixed with hatred and malice, and Kenji turned in shock, ripping his hands out of his pockets as the shadow hurtled toward him.


	12. Debts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look! I’m a day early!

Poppylan had never seen a man move with as much predatory grace and utter destruction than the dark shadow made of pure muscle and domination that was Tora as he slammed into Kenji, and subsequently out the French doors into the pouring rain that came down in torrents on the balcony of the Takahashi home.

Kenji had barely had enough time to pull his hands out of his pockets and brace himself for the brutal impact he was about to receive before he felt himself being physically lifted off of the ground and absolutely crushed into the concrete. He blinked a few times as the wind was knocked out of him before a barrage of blow after blow landed on his face, the side of his temple and cheek slamming into the concrete. Finally, a line snapped into place in his mind, and he realized he was going to die if he didn’t fight back.

He lifted his hips, heaving hard at the bulk pinning him down and twisted, a mess of blood, bruising, and saliva writhing out from underneath Tora, who whirled on him, swiping at him, his finger catching nothing but rivulets of air.

Tora moved forward, charging at Kenji like a raging bull, and Kenji stood his ground, waiting for Tora to get close before he picked up the iron balcony chair and swung it hard, the back of the chair colliding with a magnificent crunch against Tora’s ribs, clattering to the ground with an earth shattering ringing sound. 

Tora stumbled back, his ribs singing in absolute agony, knowing he had several that were likely broken or bruised. 

“Playing with toys?” Tora growled, a strained chuckle bridging the gap between them as he reached into his jacket, producing a switchblade, flicking his wrist to release the mechanism holding the blade in place. A low rumble of thunder rolled around them, and Kenji produced his own blade, making the first move to rush Tora, swiping down low to spill his bowels onto the ground. Tore sidestepped swiftly, dodging the low blow that would have killed him, flicking the knife sideways, and slicing a low surface level slice across Kenji’s bicep as Kenji feigned away in enough time to avoid catastrophe, then sending his elbow flying into Kenji’s back. Kenji stumbled toward the balcony railing with a hiss of pain, whirling so as not to leave his back exposed.

Tora flicked the blood off of the blade, readying himself as Kenji pushed off the railing with a grunt against his wound. Kenji glanced quickly at his bicep, gritting his teeth in absolute anger as he charged at Tora, aiming high toward his head, and Tora deftly moved out of the way, aiming a high slice to his inner arm, cutting through muscle and tendon, effectively disarming Kenji as he yelled out in pain, his blade clattering to the ground, his arm a useless mechanism lacking the ability to move or bend to his will.

Kenji was outmatched, and he knew it well.

“I told ya I’d kill ya.” Tora seethed at him, those great rivers of blood snaking down Kenji’s arm and onto the balcony. Tora again flicked the blood off of his blade, closing it and returning it to his pocket. He wanted to relish the life slipping from his fingers as he took it from him by force, as he made him suffer. 

“Why?” Kenji quietly asked him, and Tora blinked a few times.

“Because I can.” Tora told him. “And because ya in my way.”

Tora rushed him again, swinging and hitting air as Kenji ducked away from him, aiming a punch with his left hand into Tora’s injured ribs. Tora let out a low, guttural growl in response, hissing through his teeth at the pain that rang through his bones like lightning through metal.

He whirled around to strike again but found himself staring down the barrel of a .45 aimed straight between his eyes. He had forgotten he was fighting a Sugiyama; a man with no honor who lied and cheated and stole. It should come as no surprise that this is the way things would end.

“Why resort to guns? Can't fight me man to man?” Tora purred. Kenji’s mouth spread into a wicked smile, those unusually white teeth stained a tangy shade of reddish orange thanks to the vicious strikes to the face that Tora gifted him.

“Because I can.” Kenji mocked him, cocking the gun. “And because you’re in my way.”

“Ohhhh, you little shit.” Tora crooned at him, mocking him and cocking his head to the side.

“Fuck you.” Kenji bitterly snapped. A gunshot rang out through the night as a flash of lightning and a roll of thunder concealed the popping echo.

********

“Have you had her tailed?” A voice asked hoarsely over the phone. Vincent leaned back in his chair, rocking in contemplation as he affirmed,

“With my best lieutenant—soon to be captain.”

There was a low hum of approval on the other end of the line, a darkness breathing through the static of the phone lines.

“Does she know where the drive is?” The voice inquired.

“If she does, she hasn’t mentioned it yet.” Vincent sighed. “It seems like Saito was inclined to help in her own way.”

“And what way is that?” The voice sounded irritated at the mentioning of Saito’s name, frustrated at the thought of having to deal with a nuisance like her.

“A name.” Vincent breathed. “She gave her a name.”

“Gave is a liberal way of putting it.” The voice held a hint of amusement at Vincent’s phrasing, knowing full well what had transpired that night in the Cherry Blossom Lounge.

“Tora is set to track down the name himself. He believes it’s a good clue as to the whereabouts of the drive or at least someone with a good amount of information to give.” Vincent explained.

“And do you know this...name?” The voice asked. Vincent didn’t. In fact, it had been a while since he’d last heard from his soon-to-be-captain, and he wasn’t all too fond of having to track him down like a dog because he didn’t come when called.

“I have an inclination that a certain captain of mine is dealing with some feelings that might make things more complicated.” Vincent’s voice was calm, lethal under the guise of a disquieted storm.

“On the contrary,” the voice thrummed in pleasure over the line, “I think we could use this to our advantage.”

“I’m listening.” Vincent smiled, crossing his legs and getting comfortable in his oversized office chair. Oh the things they could do to manipulate this fresh and budding relationship.

*****

Tora didn’t expect hell to feel so...wet. And yet, here he was still standing in the soaking rain. He had clearly heard the gunshot ring out, and yet here he was standing on the very same balcony he had been fighting on before; the ground still stained with a muddy shade of red splattered here and pooled there, that fucking iron balcony chair discarded and tipped over, slightly bent from the gentle caress to his ribs.

Kenji was standing there like an idiot, his eyes wide open in shock. A slight flicker of movement over his shoulder caught Tora’s attention. The gauzy curtains of her room were billowing in the breeze, and she stood like a phantom in her silky nightgown dipping low between her breasts, wild brown curls cascading down her shoulders, arm outstretched with a silenced pistol, a look of anger and determination glinting in her eyes, while her face remained blank and unreadable as she lowered her weapon.

Kenji’s gun had skittered across the ground, a line of blood forming in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. Gingerly, Poppy crossed the threshold into the rain, floating past Kenji who turned his head to look at her as she passed his shoulder and came to a stop in front of Tora, eyes locked on Kenji’s. She stared him down for a long moment.

“I’m going to make this abundantly clear so there is no confusion from this point forward.” Her voice was low, quiet, a mix of exhaustion and predatory calmness. “As far as I’m concerned, if the two of you want to beat the shit out of each other, then by all means. Get all of that pissing contest idiocy that you need to get out of you.

“I also don’t give a fuck if you’re aiming to wound, which is why I didn’t bother to step in with the knives because, from what I saw, one of you was aiming to incapacitate.

“But how fucking dare you be so dishonorable as to pull a gun on a man when his back is turned.”

The hatred in Poppy’s voice made Kenji wince.

“Poppylan,” He started to argue.

“No.” She cut him off, holding her hand up. “Despicable. Pulling something like that is despicable, and even up until the moment that you had us cornered in the Cherry Blossom Lounge, I wanted to believe that all that bullshit was just bad fucking luck, but seeing you tonight.”

She shook her head searching for the words.

“I don’t want a coward in my rankings. And I don’t want to be associated with one either.” Poppy told him, spitting the word “coward” out like it was physically painful to say. “Grow the fuck up, and when you decide you’re done playing these petty games, then come and find me, and I might reconsider.”

She shrugged rethinking her last statement.

“Or I might just kill you—depends on how I’m feeling that day.” She told him. His face has dropped, that impassive mask sliding into place to hide the hurt and pain that he had been feeling. 

“One last thing before you get the fuck out of my sight.” Poppylan seethed and his eyes flicked to her. “If you ever—ever come after Tora again, threaten him, or even look in his direction in so much as an aggressive or threatening way, I will end you, and I won’t need you to have your back turned to me to do it.”

At that, she shouldered past him, a low rumble of thunder sounding as the storm died down and the rain eased to a gentle mist. Kenji stood in the middle of the balcony, arm bleeding, dripping on the balcony as Tora gave him one last look before heading past him back into the hotel room.

“I gave her what she deserved: a knife to the front because unlike her disgraceful clan, I have enough honor not to stab her in the back.” Saito had said to him. Had he fallen so low? When had he decided to cheat his way to a win? Why had it mattered so much?

“I have everything to prove.” He had all but growled at Saito. Everything to prove. And what exactly had he proven? That he was a coward? That he was incapable of looking out for the people he cared about? That he couldn’t even defend himself much less her?

He had fought so hard to keep the reputation his family had at bay; had gone to great lengths to prove he wasn’t like them; that he could be different; that he could do things the right way, the honorable way when in reality he was no different than his bastard of a brother.

He deserved this. Deserved this shame. And more than anything, he deserved someone like Saito, his own personal demon.

****

The steam in the bathroom was a cloud of comfort and a hazy distraction for a moment as she sat on the shower seat, leaning against the wall, her wound stinging as the hot water hit it. She doubted that the fight would resume after she left, but if it did, she had a strong feeling Tora could deal with it himself.

She heard the soft click and whoosh of the door opening and saw his strong frame head into the bathroom, peeling his clothes off of his body and shamelessly stepping into the shower to join her. She opened her eyes, staring up at the towering mass of muscle and rigidity, taking a mental scan of his body, seeing the angry blue and black bruise spreading on his ribs from the brutal hit to the side. The water ran down his body, snaking through the scars, across the tattoos, easing the thrumming pain he felt.

“It looks worse than it is.” He lied, not wanting to see her staring at that bruise anymore with that concern in her eyes.

“I’ve had plenty of broken ribs.” Poppylan told him. “And I know it hurts like a bitch. You don’t have to downplay it, Tora.”

The way she said his name—with that softness; that trust. If he really wanted to, he could take her down here and now. He could hurt her; kill her, and there was nothing she could do in the state she was in. She knew it well, and yet here she was, baring herself to him. Every single day, he found it nearly impossible to think about the endgame that Vincent had in mind. He didn’t want to think about making a choice.

He sat down next to her on the shower bench, and she laid her head down on his shoulder, staring at the shower stream with a heavy sigh.

“Do ya regret asking him to leave?” Tora asked her.

“No.” Poppy told him, and he glanced down at her. “When I make a decision, I think it through. I don’t make it without a good reason, and I don’t second guess myself.”

“He was ya friend though.” Tora’s voice was quiet, inquisitive, prodding his way into the inner workings of her mind.

“He wasn’t my friend.” She corrected him. “He was someone I thought I might be able to trust against my better judgement, and he proved me wrong. Friends don’t knowingly send friends to their death. Friends have a sense of decorum; of morality. He has none of those things.”

“Ya talk about him like ya have him all figured out.” Tora chuckled.

“The minute that he raised his weapon at you, any chance he had of redemption was obliterated.” Her voice was fierce, a low growl. “Anyone who tries to hurt you—I’ll destroy them.”

His heart slammed into his chest, melting through his ribs and into his core for her. He swallowed hard, looking down at this little warrior; a woman who rarely opened herself up to anyone or allowed anyone in, and here she was putting her full faith into him.

“You’ll be spending your entire life destroying a lot of people.” He chuckled, and he felt her smile against him.

“I’ve got time.” She grinned. He was still looking at her when he slid his fingers under her chin, drawing her gaze up to his, her smile disappearing from her lips as she looked up at him.

“Thank you.” He told her. “Ya saved my ass today.”

“Thank god I did.” Poppy smiled. “Because it’s a mighty fine ass.”

“You little—“

But she cut him off, kissing him hard, knowing full well this was as far as they could go without being in physical pain much to both of their disappointment.

*****

“You look like shit.” Saito sighed, examining Kenji as he stood in the doorway, his head down, face solemn. He had managed to put a tourniquet on his bleeding arm before he made it to her.

“Yeah, well. You can blame Tora for that.” Kenji muttered. Saito scoffed incredulously,

“Why would you pick a fight with the Tiger of Ares Street?” 

Kenji turned his attention to her sharply, and Saito raised her eyebrows.

“If I recall, you’re the one who stabbed Poppylan, which just pissed him off.” Kenji seethed. 

“And if I recall, he’s been pretty attached to the very same Poppylan, and you keep getting on the way.” Saito pointed a manicured finger at him, prodding him in the chest as he winced at the bruises he would undoubtedly have tomorrow.

“No one likes a cock block, Kenji.” Saito motioned to a seat, moving to get her medical supplies in the room, and Kenji obeyed, sitting down on the wooden seat. Saito gently removed his shirt, appreciating the slender muscle of his body, the scars that told the story of his life. 

“The blade I used on her—it belonged to someone who has the power to help her or damn her in our world.” Saito explained to him gently. Kenji didn’t say anything. He simply stared ahead as she grabbed a wet rag and began tenderly wiping him down, careful to avoid the sore spots.

“Nakano.” Saito told him, and he turned his attention to her as she spoke to him, unwrapping the wound on his arm and studying it.

“Why would you send her to Nakano?” Kenji asked. “He hates her family.”

“Everyone has a price.” Saito shrugged, cleaning his wound. “And I’m going to leave it up to you.”

“What?” Kenji inquired.

“Clearly, I hurt someone you were fond of. And even more clearly, she hurt you.” Saito told him. “But I want to give you the choice of what happens to her next. Do you care about her enough to help her when it comes to Nakano regardless of how she has repaid you for your many kindnesses? Or will you damn her for what she and the tiger have done to you?”

Kenji stared at Saito, a worm of satisfaction at the thought of playing god for once in his life wriggling to the surface in his heart. She moved her hands deftly across his body as the wheels in his mind began to turn, those eyes of hers becoming heavy, lusty.

She had given him a gift. It was only right that he repay the favor. Coldly, he turned to her, pulling her against him with his left arm and sliding her robes down, the silky fabric falling in a heap at her feet as she made quick work of his pants. 

He would repay her.

And then he would repay Poppylan and her Tiger. He owed them a great many debts, after all.


	13. The Deal

Poppylan opened her eyes, blinking against the low morning sun glaring at her through the balcony window. The wound on her stomach was still pulsating and somewhat itchy, but she found herself nearly drenched in sweat, the bed almost unbearably hot. She rolled over on her side, rolling into a hard, unyielding body who let out a low,

“Oof.”

Her head snapped to the other pillow, seeing Tora laying there looking at her, his lids low in annoyance.

“Sorry.” She grumbled. “Forgot you were here.”

She threw the sheets back, throwing up that cold exterior the way she always did. His hand flew out, snatching her wrist, and she looked over her shoulder in shock.

“Why do ya do that?” He asked her, his eyes boring into hers, searching for an answer, demanding a response.

“Do what?” She felt completely confused.

“Shut down like that.” He shrugged. “Like you’re a different person at night than ya are in the morning.”

She blinked a few times, considering what he asked.

“I’m not under any illusions about what this is going on between us.” She shrugged. “The last thing I want to do is really give a piece of myself to you when I don’t even know what the hell it is that we are.”

He nodded thoughtfully, contemplating what she told him before he said,

“What if I said I wanted that piece of you? Would you give it to me then?”

“What if Balthuman asked you to kill me? Would you pull the trigger?” Her words were sharp, an unexpected blade cutting through the tension between the two of them as Tora’s eyes widened a fraction, and he found himself at a loss for words.

“That’s what I thought.” Poppylan sighed. “See, I understand where I stand with you. I know that you have loyalties and that those loyalties outweigh many of the other things in your life, me included, so I always keep a few paces back. I always keep enough distance between you and me so that if you were to turn on me, I’d at least have a chance of making it out alive.”

“I never said I would do it.” Tora quietly said, loosening his grip on her wrist.

“But you didn’t say you wouldn’t do it either.” She gently pulled each finger off of her wrist and gingerly stood to begin dressing. “And until you can say that to me and really mean it, sex is where I’m drawing the line.”

“Ya act like you’re so high and mighty.” Tora growled, sliding out of bed and pulling on his jeans. “Like all these decisions are easy for ya.”

“Because they are.” Poppy shrugged on her shirt, pulling her hair up into a messy bun.

“Then what about you?” Tora felt his annoyance rising, irritated that she made everything seem so simple when he could barely make a decision without too many different factors weighing him down. “What if ya father asked ya to end me? Would ya do it?”

“No.” It was such a simple answer, but she sounded so certain. So determined that it gave him pause and he just stared at her as she put her earrings and that necklace back on.

“Ya father wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Tora scoffed. She turned, grabbing her room key to her hotel and then looked him straight in his eyes.

“I already told you: if anyone tries to come after you, I will destroy them. My father is included in that.” She explained. “And if I have to rip my whole clan apart because they don’t respect me or my decisions, then so be it, but you are important to me.”

She picked up the pistol that rested on the nightstand, reholstering it and then headed for the door before she paused. She didn’t look at him when she said,

“Everyone has their limits, and everyone has their loyalties, Tora. I don’t blame you for choosing Balthuman, and if it came down to it, and he made you do it, then I guess I would count myself lucky that it was you who actually might have cared a little at some point rather than someone else who didn’t care at all.”

And at that, she walked out the door, closing it being her with a quiet click. He sat down on the edge of the bed, putting his face in his hands.

What a mess he had gotten himself into. What a fucking mess.

*****

“His name is Nakano.” Jiro handed Poppylan a file before stepping back and crossing his arms, his little Bluetooth headphone blinking blue from his ear. She flipped over the file, skimming through his details, eyes regarding his sharp face and its rough scarred exterior with sharp black eyes looking off to the side, his tailored suit and shirt black with a chain peeking up over the top. Despite the Japanese name, he most definitely looked more Russian. Poppy guessed that was the whole illegitimate father who disappeared thanks to the Nakano clan part—probably at the bottom of the Pacific somewhere.

She raised her eyebrows, appreciating his occupation: a jewelry designer by day, and an upscale one at that, and an arms dealer by night...and likely under the table at the jewelers as well.

“Looks like I’m in the market for some diamonds, doesn’t it?” Her grin was wicked and Jiro rolled his eyes, sighing,

“He hates you. You know that, don’t you?” 

“Who doesn’t?” Poppy shrugged.

“That’s the first thing I’ve heard you say that was completely accurate.” Jiro told her, and she shot a petulant glance in his direction, whipping her phone out of her purse and instructing her men to prepare her minks and finery for a special occasion and to make an appointment under a fake name for this evening.

“In case you forgot,” Jiro growled, “you’re slightly injured, so if shit goes wrong, you’re kind of fucked.”

“Time is ticking, my friend.” Poppy told him, tapping her invisible watch on her wrist. Jiro rolled his eyes, stalking out of the room and grumbling a string of curses under his breath.

Poppy turned to head out the door only to see Takahashi standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. Her smile disappeared, her back a strained line.

“It’s good to see you alive.” He smiled.

“Thanks to Jiro.” Poppy nodded at him. “And you, of course.”

“Jiro tells me you’re on your way to Nakano.” Takahashi told her, moving past her into the sitting room and taking a seat.

“That was the name on the dagger that Saito so lovingly gifted me.” Poppy’s hand brushed over the stitches as she spoke. Takahashi chuckled, a low rumbling sound.

“Your father has been in touch with our lawyers recently.” Takahashi quietly told her just as a man donned in all black swept into the room carrying a tray with a teapot and two teacups. Takahashi gestured toward the other chair, motioning for Poppy to sit.

“I’m not really up to date on the business practices in our clan. Why is this something I need to know?” Poppy sighed. Yet another distraction to add to her long list for the day as she crossed the room, taking a seat and turning toward the teapot to pour the tea for the two of them.

“For whatever reason, he’s given us quite a strict set of rules to abide by. Rules that make things insurmountably more difficult to complete our agreement.” He explained, an undertone of annoyance laced into his tone.

“You don’t trust my word?” Poppy sat back, picking up the teacup and saucer, relishing the heat in her hands as she handed him a cup and a saucer and then took one for herself.

“No.” Takahashi bluntly told her. “I don’t.”

Poppy smiled wryly at that remark,

“Smart man.”

He narrowed his eyes at her in response.

“From what I understand, lawyers are a natural part of the business process. I wouldn’t worry.” Poppy took a sip of her tea.

“When every attempt I have made at partnership is halted over nitpicking rules, I have every reason to believe that we are being manipulated and that your clan is not keen on upholding your end of the bargain.” Takahashi’s voice was gentle, strained as he glared at her, a cold glitter forming in his eyes. He set the teacup down roughly, the saucer clattering on the table with the loud clink of the teacup. It was the sudden numbness that began in her fingers that alerted her to the fact that something was seriously wrong before she pieced everything else together: the fact that he had allowed her to pour the tea, that he had never tasted the liquid in the cup. 

She found herself cursing aloud at the fact that she had become too comfortable and her trust too easily placed in the hands of complete strangers. Quickly, she set the teacup down and sat back in the chair, knowing that if she tried to stand, the paralysis agent would send her sprawling to the floor, doing more damage to her stab wound. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Jiro coming into the room and freezing at the door at the sight of her before he backed out of the room to listen.

“It’s nothing personal.” Takahashi told her. “But I need collateral to ensure your father keeps his word.”

A low breathy chuckle escaped from her lips as the paralysis agent snaked her way up her body.

“Funny...to assume...he cares about...me.” 

Takahashi glanced over his shoulder, shrugging and saying,

“We’ll see. Worst case scenario, I kill you and burn your body to ashes in the incinerator in the basement.”

At that, he walked out of the room, seeming not to care that she was essentially a frozen corpse slumped over in her chair.

*****

Tora’s phone buzzed in his pocket a few times and then stopped as he scaled the large manor on his way down to the ground. Again his phone buzzed in his pocket relentlessly as he traversed the grounds, moving toward the sprawling gardens as the phone again went silent before starting up again.

He slunk toward an overgrown tree, pulling his phone out and seeing a blocked number before putting the phone to his ear and barking out a greeting.

“Tell me you’re still here.”

Jiro. 

Tora froze in place, his heart nearly stopping at the sound of that tension in his voice.

“What happened?” He growled, steadying himself on the tree.

“Paralysis agent. Drawing room. Now.”

The line went dead, and Tora found himself cursing under his breath, his heart suddenly springing back to life as he kept to the shadows, moving swiftly back toward the balcony.

*****

Getting into the sitting room was a remarkably easy task, and that fact alone made him incredibly uncomfortable. When he eased the door open and saw Poppy slumped over in the chair, his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He moved quickly into the room, approaching her silently and putting her arm around his neck, hoisting her up into his arms.

“Christ. It took you long enough to get here.” 

Tora froze, pulling Poppy tighter against his chest at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. He turned and looked over his shoulder to see Takahashi lounging in a chair watching him, two men, armed and stationed at the door. Takahashi smiled wryly at Tora, who gently set Poppylan back down in the chair, moving her to a comfortable sitting position as he stood in front of her.

“Oh please. If I wanted to kill her, she would be dead.” Takahashi waved a hand, summoning a man in white who brought tea and some teacups. “Please, sit.”

Tora said nothing, digging in and crossing his arms as he continued to stand. 

“I have it on good authority that you are responsible for tailing our esteemed guest.” Takahashi poured a cup of tea, and lifted it to his nose, inhaling the sweet scent that floated throughout the room—a deep floral smell laced with the bitterness of black tea. Tora still remained silent, watching Takahashi sip the tea, closing his eyes to relish the flavor before setting the cup down.

“If this is true, then you should know I have every intention of killing her if her father does not follow through with his end of the bargain.” He explained, and Tora felt a sharp pang of fear lace through his stomach, his face betraying nothing.

“What does that have to do with me?” Tora sighed, trying to seem bored. Takahashi grinned,

“Hasn’t it occurred to you yet?”

Tora arched an eyebrow in question.

“Why do you think Vincent wanted you to tail her?” Takahashi posed the question, and as he did, a seed of doubt began to take root in Tora’s mind. “Do you think that it wouldn’t be simple to take out a single heiress with even a lowly peon? But no. He sent you. The Tiger of Ares Street; the braun of the clan. His right hand man. Why?”

Tora looked away, considering the question.

“Because it’s about more than just tailing her. Yes, she’s a formidable threat. Yes, she’s been known to wipe out entire clans on her own, but this is about something more, and you are a pawn in the game.” 

Tora narrowed his eyes at Takahashi. He was used to mind games, and he didn’t particularly appreciate them. But something about what he said struck a little too close to home.

“Let’s make him reveal his hand, shall we?” Takahashi made a sweeping gesture toward Poppylan. “I want you to call Vincent and tell him that I want to make a deal with his company. Tell him I specifically want to deal with his son, Quinceton. Tell him that I am willing to bargain her life for a small deal.”

“No.” Tora barked flatly. “I’m not involving Quinceton in this.”

“Yes, you are.” Takahashi grinned. “Because if you don’t, I’ll kill her.”

Tora started to open his mouth to give a retort, but Takahashi put his hand up,

“Don’t try to pretend you don’t care. I know you do, or you wouldn’t have come running when you learned about what happened to her, so why not make it easy on all of us? Call Vincent and let’s get Quinceton here to make a deal. Once the deal is done and the papers are signed, she’s free to go and you can go about finding that little flash drive before the black market gobbles it all up for a staggering price.”

“You would truly kill the only collateral ya have that could get ya a business deal?” Tora smirked.

“There is no business deal.” Takahashi growled, his patience wearing thin as he shot up from the chair, stalking toward Poppylan with feral anger, jabbing his hand in his pocket, pulling out a switchblade, yanking her head back by her hair, and seething,

“Do you want to keep testing me, boy? I have nothing to lose.”

Tora narrowed his eyes, anger flaring from his body as he gritted his teeth, pulling his phone out and realizing he had no other options. Vincent picked up quickly, and Tora filled him in on everything he needed to know.

“God damn Takahashi! Always in the way.” Vincent sighed.

“I think it’s a mistake to send Quincey. Takahashi has something up his sleeve. I don’t like it.” Tora told him.

“And yet you let him go and meet with the Cafaro-Beneventi girl knowing she was a loose cannon?” Vincent scoffed. Tora pressed his lips into a thin line at that statement. “I doubt that Takahashi would be more of a threat than she was.”

Vincent paused for a moment, thinking on his end of the line as Takahashi waved his blade back and forth as if to imitate the swinging of a pendulum on a clock. Finally, Vincent sighed,

“We don’t have a choice here. I’m sending Quincey now.”

Tora put his head down, his heart sinking at Vincent’s agreement.

“Tora?” Vincent’s voice was low, and Tora grunted in response to it. “Don’t let Quincey fuck anything up.”

“What, exactly, is there to fuck up?” Tora punctuated each syllable with impatience and irritation. He didn’t like being a pawn in a plan he wasn’t aware of, and he certainly loathed involving others who were liabilities without knowing the plan.

“When you need to know, you’ll know.” Vincent growled, and Tora snorted in response. The line went dead. Tora fought the urge to throw his phone at a nearby wall at the less than helpful response.

*****

Quincey arrived in a sleek golden super car to no one’s surprise as the butterfly door slid open and up, a pair of white designer boots crunching on the gravel. He stood tall, adjusting his cufflinks and buttoning his jacket. His back was stiff, mouth drawn into a tight line. Tora, who waited for him at the door, could tell he was less than thrilled about being the one responsible for the business end of the deal.

“Why does he want me?” Quincey grumbled, a low irritated sound in Tora’s direction.

“I don’t know.” Tora admitted, glancing over at Quincey, who held a leather portfolio under his arm. “Either way. Don’t eat or drink a god damned thing while ya in there. And remember—ya need to be who ya were with ya last publisher.”

Quincey nodded, heading through the doors to the sitting room where Poppy was still slumped over. He paused for a moment, glancing in her direction, then turning his attention to Tora, who simply nodded, following him to his seat and standing beside him, arms crossed.

“I’m so glad you could join us today.” Takahashi smiled, looking over at the seat where Poppylan sat slumped over and pushing her out of the chair and onto the ground. Tora’s nostrils flared in anger at that, fighting the urge to attack him as he sat down in the chair where Poppy had been.

“I would say the pleasure is all mine, but since you essentially forced me to be here. Well, that would be an utter lie.” Quincey snipped, fixing his frosty gaze on Takahashi, who shrugged, remarking,

“Since your father has been in near constant communication with the Cafaro-Beneventid for quite some time, I thought it might be time to—extend an offer to the two of you.”

“What are you talking about?” Quincey looked down at his nails, seemingly bored with the conversation. Tora glanced down at him, seeing the slight tremble in his fingers as he picked at the imaginary dirt between them.

“I want to open up a plant in the Mediterranean area. Nothing big. Just a simple chemical facility where I manufacture a few necessities.” Takahashi told him. “I’ve been having some issues getting a foothold in Europe because of all of their green deals and all that, but I happen to know the Cafaro-Beneventis have monopolized most of the chemical companies down in that area, which saves me even more on building costs and the hassle of inspection. The real headache portion of things.”

“And where do I come into all of this?” Quincey sighed, folding his hands into his lap. “You said yourself this is a Cafaro-Beneventi issue, and the heiress herself is there on your floor. So, why do you need me?”

“I have a feeling you can make your father a little more—pliant in regards to persuading the Cafaro-Beneventis to sell me one of their factories. Particularly because her father was the one giving me the run around.” Takahashi shrugged.

“What makes you so sure I would be willing to do this for you?” Quincey narrowed his eyes in Takahashi’s direction.

“Well,” Takahashi chuckled. “There are quite a few things. For one, I own most of the buildings that you and your crew frequent. It would be simple to just deny you access. Arrest you for trespassing. Or maybe just use security footage to give to the police to aid them in their ongoing investigations. Let’s see. Wasn’t there a sniper recently? One who wasn’t aiming to kill, but rather to warn?”

Quincey bared his teeth at Takahashi’s threat to his friend, and told him,

“If you think I want to do business with you based on sheer threats, you’ve got another thing coming. Besides that, Tora and my crew aren’t stupid enough to talk clan business in public, so I’m calling your bluff on that one.”

Takahashi’s mouth spread into a wicked grin at that, and he wagged a finger at Quincey, chuckling,

“Touché, Mr. Balthuman. Touché.”

“I think I’m just about done here.” Quincey gritted. “I can’t imagine doing business with you with nothing left to show on my end but admittance to places we don’t need to go.”

“Then why don’t I give you an offer that you won’t refuse.” Takahashi growled, growing tired of the banter. He thrust himself out of his chair, headed over to Poppylan and stomped down on her back with such a raging force that Tora cringed. Then, he reached into his jacket, produced a pistol, cocked it, and aimed it at her head. “You agree to get me a chemical plant in the Mediterranean in 48 hours, or I blow her head off right here and right now.” 

Quincey grimaced, staring down at Poppylan where blood had begun soaking her shirt in the front where her stitches had ripped open from the force of the stomp. A single tear rolled out of her right eye, across the bridge of her nose and onto the floor and it took everything Quincey had in him not to recoil from the sight.

“Let me step out and have a word with my father and Tora.” He gritted out, his eyes flicking down to Poppy one more time before he rose from his chair calmly and stalked out of the room, an arrogant breeziness to his gait. Tora followed and as soon as they were out of earshot, Tora turned and aimed one massive blow to the wall followed by another, his body trembling in rage as he paced back and forth, his breath heaving. Quincey balked, staring at him in shock, never having seen anything other than the cool, collected tiger he was used to.

“Tora.” He started, reaching out as if to comfort him before deciding against it. “What the hell is going on?”

Tora raked his fingers through his hair, then put his hands on his hips, staring at Quincey wordlessly.

“She’s just a girl you’re tailing, right?” Quincey’s eyes searched for reassurance; affirmation. “Right?”

Tora couldn’t give it to him. He looked down at the floor, shuffling his feet back and forth, and then met Quincey’s eyes, still saying nothing.

“No.” Quincey froze, shaking head head in disbelief. “No! This can’t happen.”

“Ya think I planned for it?” Tora barked back.

“You can’t do that, Tora. She’s from a rival clan. Not only that, but her father will kill you if he finds out.” Quincey growled. “It will never work.”

“Don’t ya dare fucking lecture me, Quincey.” Tora seethed, taking a step toward Quincey, whose brow furrowed in response. “That’s the last fucking thing I need right now.”

“I can’t make this deal, Tora. And you know it.” Quincey tried to soften the blow, but it was useless.

“You don’t have a choice.” Tora’s voice was dark, menacing as he squared himself toward Quincey.

“If I give him this chemical plant, you are dooming a lot of people to a life of misery and corruption.” Quincey explained. “This is so much bigger than Poppylan.”

He sighed, looking away from Tora, then pulled his phone out, dialing Vincent’s number, putting the phone up to his ear and walking away. He listened, but couldn’t quite hear the quiet conversation between father and son as he deliberated for quite a while. Finally, Quincey hung up the phone, and he strode past Tora, mumbling,

“Let’s go back inside.”

Tora snatched his arm, pulling him back, grumbling,

“What did you decide?”

Quincey looked down at his arm and then up at Tora, who raised his eyebrows in urgency. Quincey pulled Tora’s hand off of him, and growled,

“I said back inside.”

Tora, for his part, was shocked. Quincey had never been this cold toward him before nor had he really acted like more of a boss than a friend.

Tora’s shoulders tensed as he turned on his heel to head back into the sitting room, stopping short as he glanced at a Poppylan who still lay frozen, eyes wide and staring directly at him. He was completely powerless for the first time since he could remember, and he hated that feeling. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his hands at the sight of her like that. Yet,somehow, he still held onto that shred of hope that his friend wouldn’t let him down; that Quincey wouldn’t let her down.

Tora resumed his position next to Quincey, who settled into his seat, clearing his throat, and saying,

“You’ve asked that we partner with the Cafaro-Beneventis with the purpose of granting you ownership of a chemical plant in the Mediterranean.”

“That’s correct.” Takahashi purred evenly, the pistol tapping against his knee the only sign of impatience from his seemingly relaxed body. “Where will my newest plant be? I’m short on time and need to start making plans to send people over there to—“

“Your request,” Quincey cut him off coldly, “has been denied.”

Tora’s head whipped toward Quincey in shock, then back over to Takahashi, who stiffened, his head turning toward Quincey mechanically, eyes wide, nostrils flared, teeth bared in absolute rage.

“Is that so?” He seethed, his legs unfolding beneath him as he stood stiffly, stalking toward Poppylan. 

“What a waste.”


	14. Redemption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve been stuck inside since Thursday with the power going off and on, no hot water, and the water pressure for our cold water suddenly depleted. Needless to say, I’ve been trying to stay busy to avoid thinking about it, so here’s a bonus chapter this week :)

“Ah fuck.” Kenji grunted. His head was pounding, body stiff, sore, and religiously marked from a night of angry, vicious fucking. Saito took special pleasure in fucking him when he was enraged, egging him on and enjoying the many things he was willing to do to her when his adrenalin was on fire vs when he was stone cold sober and depressed.

He sat up, elbows on his knees as he leaned over, squeezing his eyes shut against the nausea threatening to overcome him. He stood tall, stretching his muscles out and heading to a closet where she kept fresh clothes for him and whoever else she deemed worthy to bed and stay for the evening.

He had been pulling on his trainers to get ready for a morning run, shrugging on his tank top and pulling his hair back into a tight ponytail trying to slip out as quietly as he could when his phone began its barrage of relentless buzzing. He glanced over at the screen, seeing the number blocked and chose to ignore it the first and second time. But as the buzzing continued and refused to quit, he finally snatched up the phone and his earpiece, stepped out into the cavernous hallway, shoved the earpiece in his ear, and growled,

“Who the fuck is this?”

There was silence on the line, but it wasn’t a true silence. He could hear faint voices in the background. Something inside of him went on full alert as he strained to hear the voices.

“Oh please. If I wanted to kill her, she would be dead.”

He knew that voice. Takahashi. Kenji’s back went ramrod straight at the sound of his voice as the mention of “she.” His brain went to work immediately, putting the pieces together. There was only one she that Takahashi was currently in business with and that was Poppylan.

“Please. Sit.” He was speaking to someone. Immediately Kenji turned right back around into Saito’s room and began a mad dash, collecting supplies as quickly as he could.

“What’s wrong?” He heard Saito’s voice mutter from the bed. She sat up, her eyes wincing as he moved around the room like a tornado.

“Something bad is happening with Poppylan and Takahashi.” And although Kenji’s voice was even and calm, Saito knew him well enough to see that he was panicking.

“Slow down.” She pulled the blankets back, stumbling out of bed toward Kenji, who was pulling open the cabinets, grabbing a disassembled rifle and shoving it in a bag.

“Hey.” She caught his arm, and he paused, but Takahashi went on:

“I have it on good authority that you are responsible for tailing our esteemed guest.”

Silence. Tora. He was speaking to Tora. 

“Why do you even care?” Saito asked, turning him to look into her eyes. “She dismissed you, humiliated you, told you that you weren’t worthy or her or her time.”

Takahashi’s voice went on, and Kenji’s eyes darted to his earpiece, listening:

“If this is true, then you should know I have every intention of killing her if her father does not follow through with his end of the bargain.” 

“Don’t do this.” Saito silently pleaded with him. “Don’t set yourself on another girl who will end up disappointing you.”

Kenji swallowed hard, a flash of lightning across his mind as Poppylan’s voice crept in through the shadows:

“Despicable.”

That voice was tainted with disdain and disappointment. 

“What does that have to do with me?” Tora’s voice growled on the phone.

“Everything.” Kenji thought to himself. “This has everything to do with you. All of it. All of this. Is YOUR fault. Your fault.”

Kenji pulled Saito’s hands off of his face, looking her in her eyes as the conversation went on in his headset.

“She did.” Kenji told her gently. “But I can’t just let her die because of someone else.”

Saito grabbed his arm, angrily whirling him around and hissing,

“Yes. You. Can.”

“You’re right.” Kenji told her, leaning in close to her face as her lips spread into a satisfied smile. 

“I don’t want a coward in my rankings. And I don’t want to be associated with one either.” Poppylan’s voice spat at him.

“But I won’t.” Kenji grumbled. He yanked out of Saito’s grasp, grabbing a hat and stalking out of the room as a vase came crashing into the wall next to his head when he crossed the threshold, closing the door.

*****

His breath was coming in gasps now, his feet pounding through the foliage as he sprinted with everything he had in him, the heavy load on his back banging into him with a hard metallic thud as he moved, leaped, and bounded. The estate was just outside of the city limits, which is how it was able to have such a magnificent garden—it had all been incorporated into the estate, making it seem like the building had always existed in the middle of the dense forestry on the outskirts of Narin City.

He could see it now, rising up over the edge of the hill like a great bear, dark and massive as the estate came into view. His lungs were burning, and his legs felt like the might melt off but he kept telling himself,

“Almost there. I’m almost there.”

“I want to open up a plant in the Mediterranean area. Nothing big. Just a simple chemical facility where I manufacture a few necessities.” Takahashi told the boy called Quincey who had apparently arrived when he was speeding down the highway at breakneck speeds in his supercar, weaving in and out of traffic as he raced to get to the outskirts of Narin City. “I’ve been having some issues getting a foothold in Europe because of all of their green deals and all that, but I happen to know the Cafaro-Beneventis have monopolized most of the chemical companies down in that area, which saves me even more on building costs and the hassle of inspection. The real headache portion of things.”

So that’s what all this was about: the fact that the Cafaro-Beneventis weren’t willing to budge when it came to business matters. They were treating Takahashi like a pawn and he had been wise to it.

He made it close enough to the outskirts to see the perimeter and the guards strolling around the grounds. He got down low on his stomach, whipping his bag around off of his back, shaking hands from exhaustion and adrenalin causing him to struggle to put the rifle together effectively and quietly.

“You’ve asked that we partner with the Cafaro-Beneventis with the purpose of granting you ownership of a chemical plant in the Mediterranean.” Quincey’s voice rang out as Kenji’s hand slipped, the scope tumbling to the side. Kenji let out a low curse, both because he dropped the piece and because he had expected the deliberation to take longer. His time was now increasingly limited and becoming even more so as he struggled to find the missing piece.

“Fuck.” He cursed. “Fuck!”

He grasped the piece, shaking hands snapping it into place as he struggled to get the stand to unfold, panic beginning to set in.

“That’s correct.” Takahashi purred evenly. “Where will my newest plant be? I’m short on time and need to start making plans to send people over there to—“

*****

“Your request,” Quincey cut him off coldly, “has been denied.”

Tora’s head whipped toward Quincey in shock, then back over to Takahashi, who stiffened, his head turning toward Quincey mechanically, eyes wide, nostrils flared, teeth bared in absolute rage.

A thousand thoughts went through Tora’s mind all at once, but the most profound and resounding one was,

“What the fuck do I do?”

He gritted his teeth, absolutely appalled that Quincey had refused him. That he damned her to death without a second thought. His mind raced with the possibilities: what he could do; how Takahashi could react. In every scenario, she ended up dead before he made it to her. He was too close to her. He wouldn’t even be able to make it two steps before he shot her dead.

“Is that so?” He seethed, his legs unfolding beneath him as he stood stiffly, stalking toward Poppylan. Tora’s head whipped to Quincey again, waiting for there to be a “but” or a “there’s another offer,” but he sat cold and stoic, folding his hands in his lap, sitting tall with an air of unbothered boredom.

“What a waste.” Takahashi growled, pointing the pistol down at Poppylan. Every muscle in Tora tightened, his brain ready to explode, mouth clamping down on the scream of anger and agony he wanted to unleash.

The sound of glass breaking forced Tora to start, his head whipping toward the window as a loud bang, whish, and crunch sent Takahashi stumbling backward and into the wall with a pained yelp, cradling his forearm where a clean hole had torn through the skin and bone of his forearm. The gun fell to the ground, skittering across the floor, and Tora sprang into motion, picking up the gun and standing over Takahashi.

“Tora! Don’t!” Quincey bellowed, bolting up straight from his chair. “Don’t start a turf war you aren’t prepared to fight.”

“I didn’t start this.” Tora sneered over his shoulder at Quincey, looking him dead in his eyes. “You did.”

“I said don’t.” Quincey cocked the pistol he had on him, aiming it straight at Poppylan. Tora narrowed his eyes at Quincey.

“Do ya really wanna play this game?” Tora growled a low primal sound. “Because ya won’t win.”

“Maybe not.” Quincey quietly admitted. “But I will pull rank, and you will fall in line.”

Tora’s hands were shaking at this point, rage falling over him in waves as he gritted his teeth at Tora.

“I will not allow my friend to become the target of an entire syndicate.” Quincey told him. “I don’t care if you’re mad at me now or forever.”

Tora took one last long look at Takahashi before he stood down, putting the gun in his back waistband wordlessly, and picking Poppy up in his arms, cradling her against his chest and turning to wait for Quincy despite the ire he felt for him.

Quincey approached Takahashi silently, kneeling down before him.

“Our position and the Cafaro-Beneventi position has been made abundantly clear: we don’t want to do business with you.” Quincey told Takahashi quietly. “Know that if the shooter was our responsibility, I would claim him, but he’s not, though we could use a good marksman like him.”

Takahashi lifted his lip in a sneer.

“Lastly,” Quincey remarked, “you came for someone that was very dear to my family. You tried to kill her and tried to deny us what is within our rights to access. For that, you will pay.”

Quincey stood heading toward the door before he paused, looking over his shoulder and remarking,

“My father and the don are looking forward to meeting you very soon.”

At that, all of the color from Takahashi’s face drained, and upon seeing the result of his work, Quincey nodded his head in farewell and headed out the door to his gold sports car, Tora following close behind with Poppy in his arms.

A flash of movement in the foyer outside the sitting room caught his attention as several men stood waiting to shoot Quincey and Tora.

“Stand down.” A familiar voice said. Tora saw him moving behind the wall of men, a cell phone in hand still on a call as he stalked through the group of men. “Let them through.”

He saw Jiro visibly relax at the sight of Poppy, still under paralysis but alive. He nodded slightly to Tora, who nodded back and both Quincey and Tora passed through under the heated and angry gazes of the clan members while the house erupted into a flurry of movements and voices as they left the house, driving away, the glint of a scope in the tree line catching his attention for just a moment as it followed them out of the estate to ensure their safety and then disappeared.

*****

Kenji slammed the door of his orange sportscar, gripping the steering wheel for a moment and lying his forehead down on it. He let out a long ragged breath, the intensity of the moment finally seeping out of him as he breathed out the last of the stress and jitters.

One shot. He only had enough time to take one shot, and then get up, pack it up, and run like hell before he was found. He was so close to the estate that there was no time for mistakes and no second chance. They would be hunting him, and if he missed. That would’ve been it. She would’ve been dead and all of that would have been for nothing. 

He had gone over all of this in his brain as he ran, realizing that it was all a risk; knowing the odds were higher that he might miss and then he was fucked. There were times he questioned if it was worth the stress or if it was worth his life.

“I have everything to prove.” He had said to Saito, and at the first test, he failed miserably, reverting back to the backstabbing and cheating to win, and he paid the price for it. Maybe this was his second chance. Maybe, even if she never knew it was him, he could finally prove to himself that he was worthy. That he was better than his brothers. That he could rise above the anger and the hurt and the pain and be better than he was before. So he ran, and he took the risk. 

And now. 

Now.

A gold sports car sped down the road, whipping around the curving corners of the little back road as he drove. Behind his car, he heard the crunch of gravel and the sound of a car’s wheels coming to a stop. He looked up to see a red car behind him and Tora getting out of the driver's seat stalking toward the passenger's seat of his car.

He pulled open the door and slid into the car, shutting the door. For a moment the two of them stared straight ahead before Kenji turned to look at him and sighed,

“What do you want?”

Tora looked down at his hands and grumbled,

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re—“ Kenji growled.

“Why else would ya be out here?” Tora barked, meeting Kenji’s stare. Kenji’s jaw tensed, and he gripped the steering wheel tight in his hands before releasing it and sitting back in the seat.

“It doesn’t matter.” Kenji told him.

“Yes.” Tora’s voice was tight, impatient. “It does.”

“Just—get out of my car.” Kenji sighed. Tora nodded, his mouth in a grim line as he pushed the door open and climbed out. He paused at the door, turning and leaning down to look at him.

“She’s alive because of you.” Tora said. “So it does matter. It matters a lot, and even if it doesn’t matter to you, it matters to her, and it matters to me.”

Kenji stared at Tora as he closed the door and headed back to his own car, getting in and driving away. He took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. 

And for the first time in his life, he finally felt like it was enough. Like he was enough.

*****

“I see you’re still alive.” Saito spat, crossing her arms and tapping her foot on the ground. Kenji shot a nasty glare in her direction and flung the disassembled gun into the closet with a loud thud. Saito glanced over at it raising her eyebrows a little and then fixing her unphased stare on Kenji, who headed to the little alcove in the wall of her room where a shower was built in. He turned the little bronze knob and a small waterfall of water began to fall from the ridge of the cave, a soothing eucalyptus steam rising from the ground.

He peeled off his clothes, tossing them inside of the fireplace to burn much to Saito’s dismay and strutting into the shower with an annoyed glance over his shoulder, leaning against the wall with both hands.

“Was she at least grateful?” Saito growled, leaning against the cave wall and watching him shower. Kenji glanced over his shoulder at her wordlessly, then went back to showering.

“You didn’t tell her, did you?” Saito rolled her eyes. “What was the point of all of those heroics then? Idiot.”

Finally, he whirled on her, stalking close and getting in her face to seethe,

“This is why you and I will never work. It’s not about the glory of it or flaunting it. It’s about doing something selfless for someone that you care about and not expecting anything in return.”

“Not even if it clears your name and puts you back in her good graces?” Saito arched an eyebrow. Kenji hesitated for a moment before he turned away from her, quietly saying,

“No. Not even then.”

Saito swallowed hard, eyeing him as the water cascaded over all of those muscles and scars and tattoos etched on his body. A strange flickering sensation started in her heart for a moment before it fluttered out like a candle in the wind.

*****

Tora slammed through the doors of Vincent’s office, waves of anger radiating off of his body. Vincent looked up from his desk, scowling at Tora, Quincey glancing over his shoulder at Tora, then turning back around, looking down at his hands.

“You’d better have a damned good reason for barging into my office like that.” Vincent growled.

“You knew she would die if ya didn’t give him the plant.” Tora was trembling.

“It was a gamble.” Vincent shrugged, and the very act of him shrugging very nearly set Tora aflame in rage. 

“A gamble.” Tora scoffed, putting his hands on his hips.Quincey remained nearly motionless, the same blank stare on his face that he had before, and Tora glanced over at him.

“You seem upset.” Vincent folded his hands on his desk, eyeing Tora intently as he did so. 

“I just—“ Tora ran a hand over his mouth, calculating what he should say; how to tiptoe around the conversation he didn’t want to have. “I don’t understand why ya having me do all of this if ya just gonna kill her off.”

A wry smile spread across Vincent’s face, and he glanced from Quincey to Tora before saying,

“A clock, Tora, is more than just a face and two moving hands. It’s a machine with intricate inner workings and many moving parts.”

Tora scowled, sighing heavily at the cryptic metaphor.

“How long have you been working with the Cafaro-Beneventis?” Tora quietly inquired. A muscle in Vincent’s jaw twitched, a flash of anger and surprise flitting across his features as he replied in a tight voice,

“Long enough.”

Tora nodded, knowing that he had seemingly crossed a line by figuring this bit of information out before he likely should have.

“Well then. I suppose your barging in came at a good enough time. We’re finished here. The three of us. See that Quincey makes it home.” Vincent dismissed them, and Tora set his jaw, looking down at Quincey. The last thing he wanted to do right now take that little shit home. He turned on his heel, stalking out the door, Quincey picking up his stride to catch up with Tora.

“Tora.” He called in a low tone as they hurried down the hall, Quincey struggling to keep up. Seeing that Tora had no intention of stopping at the mention of his name, Quincey reached out, grabbing him violently and whirling him around. Tora, in turn, grabbed Quincey by his lapels slamming him against the wall.

“Ya lucky you’re Vincent’s kid.” Tora seethed, leaning in closer to Quincey and gritting his teeth. “Because if you were anyone else, I woulda ripped ya apart the second we walked out of Takahashi’s place.”

“You’re not thinking straight.” Quincey growled at him. “You only see one person right now and not the bigger picture.”

Tora released Quincey, who straightened his jacket out.

“Talk.” Tora growled, and turned, heading toward the door, Quincey following close behind.

“Takahashi wanted a plant in the Mediterranean not just for a foothold there, but because he wants a partnership with Nakano, who has been handling weapons trafficking in the Mediterranean region for years.” Quincey explained, his eyes darting around. “The ‘chemicals’ he’s talking about? It’s a factory of hard drugs. If Takahashi gains a foothold in the Mediterranean and partners with Nakano, it becomes a new threat to the power the Cafaro-Beneventis hold, and thus, as you well know by now, a threat to the power that we hold.”

“So you were willing to just fucking kill Poppylan to save face for ya family?” Tora sneered. Quincey stopped suddenly, and Tora whirled to look at Quincey, his face drawn into a tight sneer.

“You think I was the one who made this decision?” Quincey barked. Tora took a step forward in challenge, the wheels in his head turning. If not Quincey, then…

“Ya old man then?” Tora grumbled, crossing his arms. Quincey let out a humorless chuckle.

“No. He wants her alive.” Quincey told him. Tora’s brow furrowed in thought as he wracked his brain for answers when suddenly, it hit him.

“She can either help him or get the fuck out of his way. And if she stands in his way, he will cut her down without a second thought.” Vincent had told Tora when they were first discussing the don of the Cafaro-Beneventis clan.

“Her father was the one who told mine that if she becomes a threat or a problem, that she was no longer useful to his clan.” Quincey explained. Tora’s heart lurched in his chest as it all sank in for him, and Quincey finished,

“It was her father who made the decision to put her down.”


	15. Debt and Repayment

Poppy didn’t sleep, although for all other intents and purposes, it would’ve seemed like she was asleep. She lay motionlessly in a bed in a dark room able to hear everything around her and even see the ceiling fan whirling like a strange phantom flying in circles. She had always assumed that coming out of paralysis would be gentle, easy; like a weight coming off of her shoulders that might allow her to drift off to sleep peacefully. 

In truth, she’d never actually spoken to anyone who had survived what happened after a paralysis agent was administered. She had seen the product work plenty of times and even been on the giving end of it, but never fully seen the end result.

When her muscles began to release from the paralysis, the pain was agonizing: days of tight muscle tension gave way to searing pain as her fingers and toes twitched. Her eyes burned from eyelids that hadn’t been shut in nearly twenty-four hours. The headache was splitting and ferocious. Her eyes watered, tears falling down her cheeks as her vocal chords finally began to loosen up, a hoarse, raspy whisper emerging from the depths of her chest. She filled her lungs with air, the expansion of her diaphragm and ribs feeling like a balloon stretched nearly to the point of popping. Her back began to slowly release, each muscle nearly melting away from her spine in a sensation that felt like her skin was being peeled from her bones.

Once the paralysis had slowly and painstakingly worked its way out of her system and she felt that newly stitched wound again, she rose as slowly as her body would allow her, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her feet were tingling as she tested out the pressure of her body weight on her knees before slowly rising, her body tilting back and forth, core painfully and desperately trying to right itself against the intense pain of her wound that had been reopened thanks to that hellish stomp on her back.

Stiffly, carefully, she moved her legs, fingers holding onto a desk, then a chair, and then over to a dresser before making her way back again, her legs finally loosening up enough to hobble toward her nightstand where water waited, her reward for her diligence. She was just repeating her trek back and forth across the room when the door slowly and quietly swung open, that familiar tall, dark shadow looming in the doorway. She paused, her hand gripping the back of the chair, staring at the shadow as he stepped into the light, those dark golden eyes burning with intensity as he gazed at her, approaching her cautiously like he would a wild animal until he stood toe to toe with her, his hand resting on the back of the chair a few inches from hers.

Wordlessly, he reached out, gently pulling her to him, needing to feel the warmth of her life against him, wanting to breathe her in and know she was still alive when only a few hours earlier, she lay stone cold, eyes wide open staring at the ceiling. Poppy wrapped her arms around him, clutching his shirt in her hands as she leaned her head against his chest and sighed.

“This whole almost getting killed thing,” she rasped out, “is starting to get really old.”

Tora laughed, the sound cutting through the anxiety in the room, allowing relief to pass between the two of them.

“Ya right about that.” He laughed, nuzzling his face into her hair and kissing the top of her head. Her face fell a little and she pulled back, looking up at Tora, and saying,

“Things are just so much more complicated now.”

He brushed a strand of hair out of her face and said,

“I know.”

And he did. More than anyone. He knew clan rules better than anyone too. There were four people involved in her almost losing her life, and she would take vengeance on them. He didn’t care much about Takahashi or the don, but he was somewhat concerned about Vincent and even more concerned about Quincey, who was merely a messenger, but now caught up in this mess. He wondered how much time he had left with her now that it became clear a rift was forming between the two of them, and it was one that was out of both of their control.

Poppy took a step back, feeling the impending end of their time the same way that Tora did.

“I don’t expect anything from you, Tora.” She reminded him, but something gnawed at him. Something that he couldn’t put his finger on as she shut him out.

“I’m not so sure that’s true.” A voice sounded from the doorway. There, leaning against the door, was Quincey. Poppy’s brows furrowed in absolute anger, her lip pulling up into a snarl as Tora stepped between the two of them, whirling on Quincey and snapping,

“Are you out of ya goddamn mind?”

“You brought her to MY apartment.” Quincey barked back, crossing his arms like a petulant child. Tora could feel the rage radiating off of the heiress behind him, and she would have attacked even with Tora standing in the way had her body not been on the mend.

“Because the doctor was—“ 

“Enough! For fuck’s sake.” Poppylan growled, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“Happy to see you’re not dead!” Quincey cheerfully told her, and she flipped him the bird with a sharp, 

“No thanks to you, asshole.” 

Quincey grinned despite himself, nodding at her and chuckling a little, which further enraged her.

“Yes, I’m sorry about that.” Quincey smiled, shrugging it off like he had just misplaced a pair of her shoes or accidentally thrown out her favorite dessert.

“Sorry.” Poppy laughed dryly. Tora stiffened at her laugh, turning to look back to her. “He says he’s sorry.”

She lunged for Tora’s back, grabbing the pistol in his waistband, and Tora whirled on her, carefully grabbing her wrist and forcing it up toward the ceiling with a gentle,

“Oh, no ya don’t, sweetheart.”

She released the weapon, not wanting to hurt herself further.

“You do realize that I only follow orders, don’t you?” Quincey crossed his arms. 

“Right, because you’re Vincent Balthuman’s bitch. Got it.” Poppy growled.

“Watch it.” Tora growled a low warning. Poppy’s eyes darted over to Tora with a glare that would have incinerated him if she could have.

“Aren’t you the same for your father?” Quincey pushed back. Poppy’s eyes lit up in fury at that accusation.

“Listen here, asshole—“

“You’re here because your father told you if you didn’t find this flash drive, you were done. He would kill you, disavow you. Make sure you were never found again. You, his own daughter.” Quincey slid the metaphorical knife between the ribs, and Poppylan was clenching her fists furiously.

“And, according to him, you’ve proven to be more trouble than you’re worth. So when I called my father to find out what to do, my father immediately contacted yours. He told us to put you down.” Quincey explained, and Tora shot a sharp glance in his direction.

“That’s enough.” Tora’s voice was low, deadly.

“Is it?” Quincey pushed back. “Because I’m a little sick of being blamed for things I have little to no control over, and I’m particularly exhausted with this little Cafaro-Beneventi who comes parading into town like a hurricane, approaching these crime syndicates like we owe her anything.”

His voice lingered in the room, a tense silence following, neither Quincey nor Poppylan wanting to cave in.

“You’re right.” Poppy grumbled and Quincey’s eyebrows flew up at that, Tora whirling to her in shock.

“I’m sorry. Did you just—“ Quincey stumbled only to be cut off with a sharp,

“Go fuck yourself, Quincey. Yes. I said you were right.”

Quincey beamed at that admission and Tora could have sworn he saw Poppy’s lips twitch upward a little as well before she muttered,

“It was still your fault, but I know what it feels like to be leashed to your father’s will.”

“That’s fair.” Quincey quietly conceded. “Look, I don’t want to be your enemy. After last night, Takahashi is one of the last people I ever deal with again. Honestly, I don’t know why I had to deal with him in the first place. I write books for a living. I’m no bargainer.”

“Manipulation.” Poppy shrugged, and both Tora and Quincey looked at her. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two confused faces, and she rolled her eyes.

“In business, when I want, let’s say, to take on a company, I want to do everything that I can in order to weaken it. I’ll start by removing all outside sources first, cutting them off from any lines of support. Think of it as an embargo of sorts. Then, I’ll turn my attention within. 

“You never go straight for the head when you’re aiming to take a big organization down. You do what you can to sever it at the knees first—bring it down to your level.” Poppy explained.

“Takahashi was gambling on Tora. He knew that if he really did kill you because of my decision, that Tora would come after me. Or, in the off chance that you lived, that you would kill me yourself. He was using the clan codes against us.” Quincey’s eyes darkened a shade.

“In turn, that means your father gave the order knowing it very well might mean killing you as well.” Poppy told him. The recognition in Quincey’s eyes almost broke Poppy’s frigid heart in two. Tora looked down at his feet, nodding a little as he processed everything going on, and Quincey, with a sigh said,

“Yes, well. I’m going to go do a little writing.”

And he turned on his heel, that same look in his eyes leaving a trail of sadness as he exited the room. Tora glanced over at Poppy, and she looked away from him.

“I hope ya realize now that he’s not the bastard ya thought he was.” Tora told her, and he too turned out the door to go and check on Quincey.

*****

Tora woke to Poppy stirring in bed, but lay still, listening to her as she silently, slowly rose from the bed, tucking a pillow under the sheets to imitate her body and padding across the floor. Silently, she pulled on her clothes that Tora had brought from her hotel, dark leggings and a dark sweater, black boots. She checked her weapons, strapping them on her before pausing, turning to check that he was still asleep, and heading out the door.

Tora waited until he heard the front door close before he picked up his cell phone and dialed out. It rang a few times before a tired, irritated voice picked up, grumbling,

“What?”

“Poppy is on the move. I need ya to track her.” Tora mumbled, pulling on a shirt as he spoke, putting his Bluetooth earpiece in.

“Track her your damned self.” Jiro sighed, but Tora heard the sound of movement before he heard the tell tale tapping of keystrokes on a keyboard. “She’s heading northwest.”

“On foot?” Tora inquired.

“No. She’s moving faster than that.” Jiro told him. Tora pulled the blankets back, heading into the living room where he checked the table in the entryway. Only one set of keys remained of the two that had been there.

*****

The gold sportscar stopped about three blocks away from from the massive glass and steel building that looked over downtown Narin City like a giant, hulking deep purple beast. 

She had spent her time familiarizing herself with the blueprint of the beast, understanding the many ways that she could infiltrate the building undetected and relatively unharmed considering she was limited to slower, more cautious movements due to her injuries. She made a few phone calls along the way, traded a nice sum of money for an expedited identification badge, and made her way toward the front door of the building.

The minute she entered the building, she felt at least ten pairs of eyes on her, scrutinizing her less than businesslike appearance as she confidently strode through the gold and marble lobby of the building, brimming with blood bought luxury in the form of stark white sofas, golden vases of fresh white roses and the beauty of model-esque receptionists.

“Hey.” A harsh male voice barked out in her direction. Poppy stopped, pivoting toward the voice of a steely man who stalked toward her. “ID?”

Poppy wriggled her ID before him, and he snatched it from her fingers, assessing it as he looked at the ID and then at her, then down at the ID again.

“Verify your name.” He growled.

“Amelia Fogliani.” She smiled proudly, and his brows furrowed.

“Italian?” He arched a brow suspiciously. 

“I might be.” She leaned in conspiratorially, and he saw a small amused smirk playing on his lips as she did so. “In name only.”

“Go on through.” He told her, deciding she wasn’t much of a threat as she headed into the building, making her way toward the elevators.

“Well that was fucking close.” Jiro’s voice hissed in her ear. Poppy smirked as the elevator doors slid open and she pushed the penthouse button, the elevator beginning its steady ascent.

“Once you make it to the top and the doors slide open, I’m cutting the power. You’ll have three minutes to get into place. I’ll be listening for the words, ‘and that’s all I have to say.’ Once I hear that, I’m cutting power again to buy you time to get into the elevator and close the doors. You’ll take it down to the second floor before I cut power again and you’ll make the trek down using the emergency exit on the second floor. Cross your arms if you understand.” He explained, and she did, leaning back against the railing and crossing her arms. With a slight ding, the doors slid open and the power immediately went off, plunging the building into darkness. There was a sharp commotion in the building, people yelling, and scurrying to right the issue, instinctively knowing something was wrong. 

Poppy slid into the darkness like a wraith, savoring the panic around her, relishing in the calmness in her bones because she knew what was going to happen. She knew why there was commotion and knew she was in no danger. It was an odd sensation to play god every once in a while. She avoided people when she heard them coming but moved through the blueprint in her mind, thinking through the pictures she had studied and memorized of the layout on these floors and the furniture in them.

People ran by her left and right, trying to search for a light source, cell phone lights turning on here and there as she passed confidently and without much bravado, catching glimpses of the angry faces, the sharp black suits and white shirts, the clean black ties all pressed against physically fit bodies. She felt like she was pushing against a rushing river, walking against the current, until she saw two familiar double doors. She put her hands on the golden handles, and in a low voice, she muttered,

“I’m here.”

The door opened silently, Jiro having released the look as she slid into the room, the sound of singular breathing coming from that heavy desk in the center of the room. Judging by the lack of quickening breath, she knew she had done a good job being stealthy, that she had entered the room undetected. She slinked toward the back corner of the room, carefully stepping around the two sofas, padding across the expensive Persian rugs, sliding in between an end table and a heavily cushioned wingback chair, and appearing like a ghost behind the heavy, high backed desk chair.

She could see his relaxed body lounging in the seat, under the impression that he was safe in his high tower while all of his men were willing sacrifices before him. She decided a gun wouldn’t be her weapon of choice and if it did come down to killing him, she wanted to enjoy it. She reached into her bag, producing a paralysis agent, the very same one that had been used on her, turned the syringe in her hand, and jabbed it into his neck.

The lights flickered on, and a loud hiss erupted from the man sitting in the chair as she grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking him back against the chair and bringing a blade to his throat, whispering,

“I’ve just injected you with a paralysis agent. In about two minutes, it will begin to take effect.”

“Good to see you’re alive, Poppylan.” The voice rasped with amusement.

“Even if I didn’t make it, I would come back and torture you after death, so this moment was coming either way.” She muttered.

“I don’t believe in spirits.” He laughed.

“How about demons?” Poppylan hissed, pushing the blade further into his throat.

“What do you want?” He growled.

“A few things: when I’m ready to deal with you again, I expect your full cooperation. It’s the least you can do for agreeing to kill me.” Poppylan told him.

“Done.” He seethed.

“Now, let’s get down to the main order of business.” Poppy said. “Your son.”

“What about him?” He sounded annoyed, put out about having to discuss his son.

“He doesn’t get dragged into this again.” Poppy demanded. A low laugh erupted from him, and he purred,

“You mean to tell me what to do with my own family?”

Poppy made a surface level slice on his neck, warm blood spilling down his chest as he grunted in pain before Poppy yanked his head back again, blade hovering over the open wound.

“You will NOT involve him in affairs with me again.” Poppy warned him. He swallowed hard, but she felt a shallow nod in response, followed by a resentfully uttered,

“Fine.”

“Finally,” she growled. “If I get word or even hear a whisper on the wind that you’ve endangered your son or tried to kill him again, I will come back to you in the dead of some awful night and I will cut you apart one digit at a time, one inch at a time. When you pass out from the pain, I will revive you again and again and again until you experience the pain that you’ve wrought upon your son his entire existence.”

Silence followed before he said, laughter in his voice,

“I never knew you to be a martyr. Just a murderer.”

“You don’t know a fucking thing about me.” Poppy whispered. She slammed his head on the table and held him down until the paralysis agent took full effect. Then, she took her time, intricately carving a branch of a strawberry tree into his neck, appreciating the pain that it caused him for all of the pain that he had caused.

“My national symbol.” She grinned. “The reason our flag is green, white, and red. Green for the lovely leaves, white for the spring flowers, red for the berries.”

She wiped the blade off on her pants before returning it to its holster.

“Enjoy your delicate art.” Poppy smiled. “And that’s all I have to say about that.” 

The room was plunged into darkness again, and just as quickly as she had come, she was gone.

Minutes later, when the lights came back on, Vincent Balthuman found himself lying frozen on his desk, both enraged and enthralled by her boldness. Blood trickled down his neck in little rivers and in various places, gathering in tiny pools near the base of his neck. He would enjoy watching her die, but what’s more. He would enjoy breaking her spirit before he killed her. After all, what’s the point of outright killing someone who deserved to die? Where was the punishment in that? Where was the fun in a swift death when mental warfare was so much more enjoyable?

*****

Poppy slid back into the bedroom as the sun was coming up. She found Tora sitting on the edge of his bed, the telltale blink of a Bluetooth headset in his ear as he slowly pulled it out, setting it on the side table. She froze, trying to read his face as he stood, approaching her, backing her into the door.

“Did ya have fun tonight?” He seethed. She thought for a moment, considering how to respond.

“Yes, I did actually.” She cheerfully responded. His eyebrows flew up at her response. At the boldness of it.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” Tora growled. She put a hand on his chest to push him off, but he remained unmoving, like a brick wall, leering down into her eyes.

“I threatened your boss.” She pushed back, staring right back into those heated eyes. “I made him promise to work with me and do exactly what I said, and then I cut him.”

“Forgetting to tell me something?” Tora sneered. She clenched her jaw. The last thing she wanted him to know was that she went out of her way for Quincey. She didn’t like the idea of being seen as sympathetic because that meant exposing a weakness. If she’d learned anything over the past few days, it was that trust could be easily swayed and destroyed, and she still hadn’t quite recovered from Takahashi’s betrayal, though Jiro seemed unphased by it, standing by her regardless of the situation.

“You tell me.” She quietly growled. Something tightened in Tora’s face, an emotion passing over his eyes that she wasn’t quite familiar with yet as he muttered,

“I heard everything. Jiro patched me into your feed.”

Of fucking course he did. She rolled her eyes, and he reached up, gripping her chin to make her look at him, anger flaring in her at the aggression; at the sheer audacity of him.

“I made demands for Quincey.” She sighed.

“Why?” Tora demanded, narrowing his eyes at her. “What’s in it for you?”

“One less person who’s fucking dead because they crossed paths with me. That’s what.” Poppy spat. Tora blinked at her a few times, releasing her chin. They glared at each other for a long moment before he grumbled,

“Thank you.”

She nodded at him and he moved away completely. She reached out, grabbing his arm and pulling him back over, leaning up on her tiptoes and pressing her lips to his before embracing him fully.

“Tora,” she said his name with such understanding, and he put his forehead to hers. “I would never do anything to hurt you either directly or indirectly. I know Quincey is important to you; that he’s your friend. And if you care, then I care.”

“Bullshit.” Tora dryly snickered. “I care about you, and you go off trying to get yaself killed all the time.”

“There are a few exceptions, of course.” She smiled. “What I mean is that I consider you in all of my decisions that even remotely involve you. I weigh the risks and then I make my move.”

He kissed her again, breathing in the sweetness of her scent, taking in the loyalty in her being and her presence. He picked her up, taking her to bed, stripping her down, and appreciating her for all of the things she had done. The lines between his loyalties had begun to blur beyond all recognition as he lined himself up with her, entering her in one long thrust and moving at a vicious pace. She tangled her fingers in his hair, moaning his name over and over again, and he drank her in, drank in the intoxicating noises that she made, the way she writhed against him, the sound of his name tumbling off of her lips. His mouth explored her body, understanding what made her tick, what made her squirm, and what made her clutch the sheets in bliss.

She wrapped herself around him, dragging her nails down his back and he threw his head back, hissing and then groaning her name, and his response alone was enough to grant her an immediate release.

****

While she slept, Tora gazed down at her, his fingers trailing across her back as he sighed, leaning his head back against the headboard.

Across the city, Vincent Balthuman was finding a painful release from the small amount of paralysis agent he had been given. He flexed his fingers, delicately touching his face before he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiping his fingers off.

Calmly, he pulled his cell phone out and dialed out, and when he heard the line click in answer, he rasped out,

“Nakano. This is Vincent Balthuman. I’m calling to cash in on that debt you owe me.”

“I’m listening.” A harsh voice told him. 

Vincent Balthuman’s mouth curved into an insidious smile.


	16. Princess - Update

Hey guys. This week’s chapter has been removed due to a pretty strong negative response. I need to regroup and rewrite to continue the story on a different path now. 

See you next week.


	17. The Gala

“ A gala?” The tone in Poppylan’s voice was equal parts suspicious and amused. 

“Supposedly it’s a charity gala. Wealthy elite and shit.” Tora commented. “And us. We have been invited.”

Poppy hummed in thought at that, knowing there was likely an underlying reason for the invitation. It had been nearly three weeks since her injury, and Tora refused to let Poppy do much more than research at this point. Her father had gone radio silent for the first time since she had been in Narin City, and that worried her more than almost anything because he tended to show up places uninvited and wreak pure havoc wherever he was.

“Who extended us the invitation?” Poppy shifted in her chair, putting her head on her hand in a bored fashion, leaning on the arm of the chair as she stared at him.

“Invites only come from the host himself.” Tora shrugged.

“Bullshit.” Poppy spat. “This has to be some sort of ploy.”

“Probably is.” Tora agreed. “But Nakano is the last piece of the puzzle, and this is our way in.”

Poppy tapped her cheek in thought, nodding slightly as she did so, her gaze falling on the closet door where he things had been brought for her. She held her hand out for the invitation and glanced down at the black and white checkered invitation, it’s smooth white tiles and velvet black tiles under her fingertips as she read the golden calligraphy writing:

“Kings, Queens, Rooks, and Pawns  
Of nefarious origins, granted,  
Delight in revelry on the lawn  
To behold the good queen’s gambit.

“I bid you to join us in merriment  
An intertwining of such fates  
For ne’er a sound was so resonant  
Than the uttered words, “Checkmate.”

“It came with this.” Tora mentioned, holding up a golden chess piece. Poppy took the piece, examining it in her hands; a heavy piece with ornate carvings of strawberries and the leaves of strawberry trees. A powerful piece: one that could move anywhere. One who is frequently sacrificed before the king himself.

A queen.

Poppy smirked at that.

“Nakano likes to play games.” She purred. Tora cast a wary glance in her direction as she continued to survey the piece. “Well. At least he got the piece right.”

She plopped the piece on the side table next to her, rising from her chair.

“Where are ya going?” Tora inquired, catching her hand as she moved to walk by him.

“Surely you don’t think I can get ready for a gala in less than an hour?” She teased, and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

*****

Night had fallen quickly across Narin City; an unusually warm night, the breeze off of the river a forgiving kiss to the skin. Tora adjusted his cuff links, smoothing his hair back away from his face. He reached inside of his jacket, pulling the gun out of its suspended holster that was fitted tight against his chest. He checked the cartridges, before putting them back into his jacket, patting each of the places where extra lighter weight pistols and an assortment of blades lay in waiting. He leaned against his red sports car, crossing his arms.

The sound of heels clicking down the stairs drew his attention to the apartment. Sky high sands led stilettos skillfully made their way down the stairs, a black lace high low dress that fit her body like a glove from her thighs up and flowed her out into a trumpet like train behind her. The bodice was corset tied behind her, her cleavage very nearly spilling out of the gauzy black halter top, see through to the strapless black satin bodice she wore beneath that dipped low to her stomach.

A black crown of thorns and branches was fastened to her head, branches twisting high above her head, her hair swept back into a regal twisted updo, her makeup minimal, save for her bright red lips that curved into a smile at the sight of Tora falling all over himself as he scrambled to open the door for her.

She nodded at him as she carefully slid into the car, the very picture of regality and grace.

*****

Tora slid out of his car as they arrived in front of the Museum of Modern Art. He waited as the valet opened Poppy’s door and she approached him, putting her hand on his arm as the two of them approached the many steps into the museum, their steps silent on the red carpet that had been rolled out onto the white marble steps of the Greek inspired building, for the less than illustrious members of the underworld.

He looked over at her as they ascended, overcome by her, and her lips twitched in response. He smiled at that, looking away from her as they reached the doors, the massive crowd of appropriately and inappropriately dressed men and women swarming the museum floor, some mingling, some dancing, some heavily drinking and causing a ruckus near the bar.

He led her down the steps, and she felt the heat of a thousand pairs of eyes looking at her, their voices rising to meet her ears:

“It’s that bitch.”

“The Cafaro-Beneventi whore has finally graced us with her presence.”

How things had changed over the course of a few months. People who used to fear her now mocked her and laughed at her. They had heard about her near-death experience with Takahashi and her recklessness with Saito. They knew about her failures and her inability to finish the job she was given.

They made a beeline toward Quincey and a few of his crew, who stood near the bar with their drinks, engaging in lively conversation. It wasn’t the first time Quincey had been invited to a soirée of Nakano’s. Tora glanced down at Poppylan, her mouth drawn into a tight line of frustration at the talk all around them.

“You know how she lost the drive don’t you?” A nasty woman’s voice edged into Poppy’s ears, slicing into her like a knife. 

“Tell me.” Another gossip giggled, well aware they were in earshot of the Cafaro-Beneventis heiress.

“The Magianelli heir seduced her and fucked her. From what I hear, she gave it up willingly.” The nasty voice chuckled. A lie. That was a lie. She hadn’t given it up willingly. He had seduced her, made her believe that she was his one and only, asked for her father’s permission to marry her and take her away. But her father had seen right through him and refused him.

She had hated her father for it, fought back against him, and he had punished her severely for it. He had treated her so tenderly that night; fallen to his knees before her and begged for her forgiveness; treated her lashes on her back and kissed them gently. That kissing had led to fucking and even more promises of a better future, so she had packed her bags and made herself ready to leave it all behind. And that night, while she slept, he rifled through her bag, found the flash drive, and disappeared into the night.

She shoved the painful memory back down. Down, down, down, and buried it again, and when Tora slid his hand around her waist, pulling her a little closer to him, she flinched against his touch, pushing the shudder away, before she forced herself to look up at him.

“What?” She blinked at him, and he didn’t buy that innocent look for one second.

“Why do you do that?” He asked her, crossing his arms.

“Do what?” She furrowed her brows at him.

“Act like it doesn’t bother ya when I know that it does.” He arched eyebrow at her. She pursed her lips, thinking for a moment before she said,

“Because if I show them that it gets to me, they’ll never stop. Sure, they might be loud at first because they’re trying to draw a reaction out of me, but everyone eventually gets tired of talking. This will be no different.”

Tora was in awe of her—this strong woman standing in front of him taking blow after blow both physically and mentally and yet she still pushed back and kept going. She still found herself standing when she had every reason to crawl or lay down in defeat.

He wanted to scream at everyone in this room to go fuck themselves. That they didn’t know what they were talking about, and he had a long list of people he had already sworn retribution on; Takahashi was at the very top of the list.

Tora let out a long sigh, pulling her toward him, much to her surprise and the surprise of most of his crew.

“When this is all over,” Tora told her, pulling her closer. “We’re leaving. Both of us. Ya coming with me.”

“I can’t do that.” Poppy shook her head, the same scene playing out before her again. She would be a fool to go with him, but at the same time, what did he have to gain from her? She had nothing, and he still wanted her.

“Yes. You can.” He told her, touching her face, eyes burning with ferocity. “You can.”

“I—“ How could she possibly leave? Her father would find her. He had eyes everywhere.

“No one deserves to live the way you’ve been living.” Tora told her. “You—we deserve a life where we get to choose what we want.”

“He would never let me go.” Poppy sighed.

“He doesn’t have a choice.” Tora growled.

“He has eyes everywhere.” Poppy protested.

“Then we make em blind.” Tora pushed back, like it was that easy. “I don’t give a fuck if we spend the rest of our life running. I would run if it was for you.”

Poppy felt a lump rising in her throat at that. She had never had anyone so willing to give everything up for her; so willing to spend his life looking over his shoulder if it meant being with her.

“You barely know me.” She breathed, looking up into his eyes.

“I know ya enough to know that if someone ever took ya from me, I wouldn’t rest until I had ya back.” He told her fiercely. Poppy’s mouth spread into a wry smile, and she said,

“Bold words from a thug.”

Tora grinned, and leaned in, nibbling her ear as he growled,

“Ya don’t know how much of a thug I can be.”

“I expect a full demonstration when we get back.” She whispered into his ear, running her tongue along his neck as he dug his nails into her sides in response. She pulled away from him, a sexy little smile on her face, sauntering toward the ladies room as he fought every instinct in him not to fall to his hands and knees and crawl after her.

*****

Poppy pushed open the door to the women’s restroom, finding the stalls all occupied as she headed to the mirror to freshen up her lipstick, her heart still racing from the conversation she had with Tora. 

Could she do it? Could she really leave with him? Run forever until they couldn’t anymore, but finally and truly live until she could. She smiled to herself, gripping the tube of lipstick a little tighter as she replaced the lid on it and placed it back in her clutch.

She had just turned to leave when suddenly the restroom was plunged into darkness. She whirled, back bumping into the counter behind her as she heard all of the stalls simultaneously unlock and the door to the restroom lock. Footsteps sounded all around her and she felt her heart rate increasing as the footsteps drew closer.

*****

She had been gone long enough for Tora to know that something was wrong. He pushed his way through the well dressed ladies and gentlemen, turning down the long, empty hallway that led to the women’s restroom. Four blurs toward the end of the hall began to take shape as he approached, his footsteps slowing.

“Looking for someone?” One of them crooned, a tinge of humor in his voice.

“Shit.” Tora breathed.

*****

Tora’s knees slammed into the concrete floor, two pairs of strong hands shoving him down onto the floor. He was pissed off at himself for falling right into their trap; for not seeing what was happening around him though he and his clan had run the same operation a hundred times before. It was true what they said about the heart fucking with the head, making him blind to everything else.

Across the room from him Don Cafaro-Beneventi sat in a high wingback chair, assessing Tora with lazy eyes, hands resting easily on the red velvet arms of the chair. Tora’s heart leapt into his throat at the sight of the don sitting before him, shocked he was finally in Narin City. He had been radio silent for so long, and now, here he was sitting before Tora, the picture of cruelty and oppression. Beside the don, the Russo-Japanese man in a gray pinstripe suit stood with a low rumble of a laugh, rubbing his hands together in delight.

“I never expected my fortune to be so great.” Nakano laughed, spreading his hands out in front of him. “Not only do I have the heir of the Balthuman clan in front of me, but I have his right hand man here as well. My god, what a lucky bastard I am!”

At that, the doors violently slammed open, Poppylan storming into the massive office, a look of anger and annoyance on her face as a massive brigade of men followed her inside, no doubt the reason she had come in the first place. Suddenly, Poppy’s steps halted and she went rigid, her eyes widening as she took in her father, sitting in the chair before her. The don’s mouth curved into a Cheshire-like smile,

“Ciao, principessa.”

Tora saw her take a deep breath, steeling her nerves as she stared Nakano down. Nakano’s eyes shamelessly took in Poppylan’s body, his tongue darting between his lips, and Tora raged against the men, who threw him face first into the ground before pulling him back up by his hair.

“When I get out of here,” Tora growled, eyeing the man holding him by the hair. “Ya at the top of my list, fucker.”

The man smiled, yanking his head back again and smiling,

“IF you get out of here, I’ll be waiting.”

Nakano flashed a thousand megawatt smile at Poppylan, whose face remained a sneer of anger and annoyance.

“What the hell is this?” She demanded, gesturing toward Tora and Quincey. 

“A peace offering.” Nakano smiled, holding his hands up. “I understand you’ve been looking for a flash drive, and I’ve spoken to your father recently about it. I happen to know about this drive.”

Poppylan’s eyebrows raised at the admission.

“I also happen to despise betrayal on the most basic level.” Nakano told her, pacing back and forth, rubbing his chin. “And I happen to know that Vincent and Takahashi orchestrated the whole little plan to kill you.”

Poppy’s head jerked toward Tora, who narrowed his eyes, growling,

“Bullshit.”

“Is it?” Nakano strode toward Tora, squatting down to look him in the eye. “I think you knew about it. How convenient that Takahashi had one of his best men helping you at the time. What a coincidence that he happened to have doctors on hand to heal her when she was stabbed by Saito. And you—you just happened to be in the exact place at the exact time that all of this was happening to play the knight in shining armor coming to her rescue.”

For the first time in her life, Poppy felt a seed of doubt taking root in her heart, and Tora must have seen it in her eyes because he gritted his teeth, his voice softer as he spoke to her,

“Ya know I wouldn’t do that to ya.”

“Does she? You and she have only been around each other for a few months maybe? It all just seems too good to be true that someone like you would really care for someone like her. You, the Tiger of Ares Street—a well known womanizer and lethal weapon, willing to go to extreme lengths for Vincent Balthuman.” Nakano crooned. Poppy’s eyes remained fixed on Tora, whose mouth spread into a thin line. He knew that nothing he said could possibly convince her if she had made up her mind. There were too many coincidences; too many impossible scenarios.

“So,” Nakano went on, “I am here to provide a peace offering for you because I appreciate honor and morality unlike Vincent’s clan. So, I give you the gift of choice. Bring him in!”

The door behind Tora opened, and Quincey was hauled in by his arms, not struggling as they dropped him to the floor next to Tora, whose nostrils flared in rage at his friend hitting the ground next to him.

“Are ya fucking out of ya mind?” Tora yelled. “Balthuman will destroy all of ya if ya touch him.”

Nakano cocked his head at Tora, a terrifying coldness flashing in his eyes as he grabbed Tora by his hair, pulling him forward and growling,

“Vincent has made hordes of enemies thanks to his selfish choices over the past few months. He stands alone, and I have the ear of the Cafaro-Beneventi don. You have nothing. And no one.”

He released him roughly, pushing him back toward his men. Quincey looked over at Tora, who met his stare, a look of absolute hopelessness and utter resignation in his eyes as he sighed,

“I’m sorry, Tora.”

Tora refused to show Quincey that he felt defeated or disappointed. He simply glared back at him, swallowing hard, steeling himself and turning back toward Nakano, who had since fallen to his knees before Poppy, out stretching his hands to her, an ornate golden pistol in his hands as he told her,

“Help me send a message to Vincent Balthuman, and I, in turn, will give you the information you desire about the flash drive. Shoot one of them, and I am yours to command and...use how you will.”

The underlying meaning of his words were not lost on her as she fought back the urge to scrunch her nose in disgust. This was her chance. Her one shot to find that drive, take it for herself, and get the information she needed to finish her task. 

She took the gun, weighing it in her hand and examining it as the task at hand sank in. Her brain ran through all of her options and every single way that she could handle the situation. Still assessing the gun, she clarified,

“If I shoot one of them, that’s it. No retaliation. We’re even?” 

Her eyes turned their attention to her father, who sat next to Nakano. Nakano glanced at her father and nodded.

“Siamo pari.” Her father said. We are even. 

Her throat bobbed as she looked from Quincey to Tora and back again. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that if she shot Quincey, Tora would never forgive her for it. Besides that, she knew that if she shot Quincey, she openly made herself a target and made the Balthuman clan an enemy. Her father was testing her, gauging how she would respond to the choice between her heart and her head. Whether she was completely useless or still had the mentality that he had instilled in her from childhood—clan over all.

She raised the gun deftly, pointing it at Quincey, whose eyes widened in terror. Her mind ran through every possible ending: what would happen if she shot him; what would happen if she shot Tora; what her odds were of surviving if she shot her father or Nakano or the guards around them. She knew well enough that if she chose to rebel against her father, all three of them would end up dead, and she had no choice but to choose one of them.

“Poppy. Don’t.” Tora breathed, the first signs of panic appearing on his face as she cocked the gun. Although she knew good and well her father wanted her to shoot Tora; expected her to shoot him, she didn’t know how she would be able to live with herself if she killed him. She couldn’t even imagine her life without him now. Even looking back on the times she had almost taken his life made her want to vomit now, considering how far they had come together.

She forced her hand to remain steady, despite the need to tremble in fear and anxiety. Then, she set her cold expression on Quincey’s face and said without any hint of remorse,

“I’m sorry.”

And she pulled the trigger.


End file.
